


Harry Potter and the First Snake

by PaleBeyond



Series: A Very Parselmouth AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Parseltongue, Slytherin Harry Potter, Snakes, but not in this one, eventual Tom/Harry, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleBeyond/pseuds/PaleBeyond
Summary: Harry Potter didn't feel very special at all until he spoke to a snake at the zoo. Once he did, he couldn't quite stop talking to them. And then the whole wizard thing happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, is another Slytherin Harry AU. The whole first year is finished, but unedited, so I'll post as I go.

‘Alright,’ Harry thought. ‘Most people can’t talk to snakes. I can talk to snakes. And they’re _nice.’_ So, upon leaving the zoo, Harry set out to talk to all the snakes he could. Most had very direct and not-fun ideas: hunt mice, curl up and sleep, run from owls, hunt mice. But a few, the occasional garden snake in Aunt Petunia’s garden, would have wonderful games. They would play hide-and-seek, which Harry had always wanted to play. They would play with letters, spelling them out and naming as many things that started with that letter as they could. Essentially, ten-year-old Harry began to have friends that Dudley couldn’t run off. That is, until he did.

Dudley came upon Harry speaking quietly in the garden, ready for a bit of Harry Hunting. This Harry Hunting session was the home edition, where he made Harry do chores or else he told Vernon that Harry did something strange. He figured that Harry was talking to himself until he saw the snake.

“Potter, what are you doing now? Chatting with worms, where you belong? About as useful as a worm, aren’t you. Freaky Potter, with the… what the!” Now it may have been another story if it had been a common grass snake, but this one was a viper. It had hung around the house for a few days as Harry asked it all sorts of questions. Vipers were unquestionably more fun than grass snakes. They had a longer memory, almost a sense of humor, and had some very interesting stories of people running away from them. Before Harry could say a word, Dudley had the same idea and ran away screaming to tell his parents. This is why Aunt Petunia had Harry locked in the house.

Now, Petunia Dursley didn’t know a lot about snakes. Even if she had, this snake would have surprised her. See, when Harry was intended to receive his Hogwarts letter, and it was ripped up, there were suddenly a lot more owls around. And the viper in the garden hated being on the lower end of the food chain. So he plucked up his courage and his mental acuity. He braved the porch, the step, the hungry gaze of five bored owls. He performed a daring feat of acrobatics and slithered through the message slot to the floor, where his fangs poked two venomous holes in an enveloped bit of parchment and hid it in a cupboard barely big enough for a boy of ten to lie down in, and he waited.

Harry actually didn’t make it back to his cupboard until late at night. Petunia had sent him out to scrub at owl dung on the car, with strict instructions to only scrub the car. Of course, Dudley took this chance to sling some literal mud, and Harry had to clean the car all over again. He slipped inside quietly, and had to stifle a yell as he saw the viper curled up and snoozing on his pillow. “What- _what are you doing here?”_ he hissed at the snake. _“If my aunt and uncle find you in here, they’ll kill you! They’ll call an exterminator!”_

 _“They won’t find me if you don’t wake them. I’ll be gone in the morning. It’s time for me to head to new hunting grounds, but I’ve brought you a parting gift._ ” The snake nudged the envelope closer to the boy. “ _The owls keep bringing them and mucking the place up. There aren’t any mice for a whole block. Rude creatures. But this is for you.”_

Harry curled his hands carefully around his letter, ecstatic. He was careful of the fang-marks, not knowing what it would do to skin. “ _Thank you. Thank you so much.”_ The snake nodded a bit and looked at him with one curious brown eye.

“ _Well, aren’t you going to open it?”_ Harry sat on his pallet on the floor next to the snake and carefully broke the seal.

“ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,”_ he read out loud. “ _Who would send this? Do you think it’s a joke? But it’s addressed to me, precisely, this cupboard._ ”

“ _I don’t think it’s a joke at all, Harry. You must be a wizard. I’ve never met another human who could speak with me before._ ” Harry swallowed and allowed a bit of hope to rise.

“ _But there’s- there’s no such thing as magic.”_ If a snake could raise eyebrows, it would. _“Talking to snakes is… well, yes, it does seem like magic, doesn’t it? Let’s read the rest of the letter.”_ He scanned it quickly, then read it over a few more times. “ _An owl, a cat, or a toad… no snakes_.” He was a bit disappointed.

“ _What self-respecting snake would want to go to a school for witches and wizards, anyhow? I’m sure they don’t even have pests there. What would we eat?”_ Harry was going to point out that he could feed it, but didn’t offer. It was a wild creature, after all. He would hate to be cooped up in a terrarium almost as much as Harry hated being cooped up in the space under the stairs. _“I’m more concerned about the lack of directions. How are you supposed to get all of these things? Or get to the school?”_

 _“Well, I suppose if I accepted then they would send all that. And I would like to accept, right?”_ Harry was a bit uncertain, but magic had to be better than St. Brutus’s.

 _“You could learn such useful things as talking to snakes. I’m not certain what other things magic people do. Maybe making your nest warm, it’s quite cold in here.”_ The snake uncurled itself and inched closer to Harry.

“Right… ok. So I need to just… send a letter by owl? That can’t be too difficult. They hang around after the letters. So I’ll need-“

“ _I’m tired. Lay down._ ” Harry obliged and the snake curled up in the warmth radiating from his belly. _“Don’t squish me_ ,” it hissed, then fell asleep near immediately. Harry couldn’t sleep as readily, but achieved it all the same.

Harry had disturbing dreams. They began with running, as if Dudley was chasing him. He ran along the corridors of an unfamiliar house, large and full with people. The house fell away, and he was running through a field of stars, bright and flat. Then, the stars seemed to explode with green light. His mind wandered and he returned to dreaming of normal things, of cupboards and brooms and a mysterious letter.

The next morning when Harry woke to the grumbling stomps of Uncle Vernon pounding down the stairs, the snake was gone. Harry was a bit sad, but he knew they came and went as they pleased. More importantly, Harry had a plan, and it involved being extra normal around the Dursleys. He got up and made breakfast and didn’t say anything when Vernon started gloating about having fixed the letter problem. As if nailing a letter box shut could stop magic letters, Harry thought smugly. He was pretty sure it couldn’t. The owls still hung around, so his plan was progressing swimmingly. While Aunt Petunia gossiped with the neighbor, Uncle Vernon off to work and Dudley with his atrocious friends, Harry snuck up and stole a few pages of lined paper from Dudley’s unused composition books. He would never notice. He also snagged a pen from Vernon’s study, which he might. It was one of those free pens they handed out, but Harry figured it had to be a better first impression on the Hogwarts people than crayon. He sat in his cupboard quietly and plotted his letter. He had allowed one sheet of paper for scrap, so he could practice.

“Dear Hogwarts- no, that’s not right. Um, Hogwarts admission team? Staff? No.” He pulled the original letter out from under his pillow. “Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall or whom it may concern,” Harry felt quite proud at that part, having seen it on one of Dudley’s crime shows. “Uhh. It is my honor to accept the uh- position? No. Opportunity! To study at Hogwarts. If you could, please enclose instructions on how to get there and how to find all of the books and equipment necessary.” Harry was also a bit stumped by the whole money debacle. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would definitely not pay for this. They didn’t even want to look at the letter. He nearly scratched out all he had written. Frustrated, he simply added, “Financial difficulty may influence my attendance, in which case have a nice day and I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Harry felt really bad about the last sentence, but he didn’t know how else to put it. He knew he sounded like a child. He copied it out onto a new lined paper, one with the least rip marks from the composition book. He used his best handwriting, but it still ended up looking terrible compared to the beautiful letter he had been sent. He folded it in half, wished he had an envelope, and snuck past Petunia into the front yard.

Harry felt a bit silly, but he just sort of waved it in the air near the owls. A couple turned to look at him. Harry wondered why it was owls looked so disgruntled all the time, like Uncle Vernon frowning at a plate of vegetables. One owl flapped into the air and swooped low over Harry’s head. It was all he could do not to screech, and he immediately tucked his hand down. The owl landed on the porch railing and held out a leg. Oh no, he was supposed to tie it on.

He felt a bit silly about this too, but he could talk to snakes, so… “Sorry, um, I don’t have- that is, could you just, carry it in your beak?” The owl stared at him. Harry held out the letter. “It’s to Hogwarts? The um. The school?” The owl reached up swiftly and grabbed the paper. Harry winced as it tore a little, and the bird took off. Harry hoped it wasn’t just going to use the letter in its nest.

“Boy! Get in here! You better not be doing anything strange- the neighbors will talk! Come vacuum the living room, there are chips all over the floor!” Harry took a deep breath and swallowed, trying not to think about how it could have all been a joke, a lie. There was a chance he would be going out and doing magic, and somehow that hope was harder to live with than the unceasing determined future of the Dursleys.

\--

The letters had stopped as soon as Harry read his, and all the owls left. The Dursleys shook it off as if it never happened, and clammed up whenever the neighbors mentioned ‘that strange owl migration’. Harry couldn’t meet any new snake friends, and he was bored. He was tired of chores and tired of being inside. He wished with all his heart that he would receive a return letter, and then it hit him- Vernon would get it. Uncle Vernon would get it, and see he had written back, and he would be in so much trouble.

It was only the barest shred of luck left to Harry Potter that his Aunt Petunia had sent him for the mail on the day the letter came, two days before his eleventh birthday. He was watching the skies as he opened the door, mail slot still boarded up. Just one owl flew down, hooted at him, and took off directly after dropping a letter at his feet. Picking it up quickly with the rest of the mail, he jammed it through his cupboard’s vent on his way back to the kitchen. He couldn’t risk them finding it on him or suspecting him of anything. If he could just…

Harry fumbled the pan on his way to the table and two golden eggs landed on the ground. He immediately began apologizing, but Uncle Vernon turned ruddy red anyway.

“To your room, boy! Wasting food! Ungrateful! I should make you eat it off the floor, but it’s still too good for you!” Harry hid his smile deep down. He just left the kitchen and slipped in to read his letter.

He read it silently. It began just as the last did, with ‘Dear Mr. Potter’ and continued, ‘A representative will be dispatched to your home shortly after this letter arrives for you-‘ A thump interrupted Harry’s reading and he figured Dudley fell off the sofa again. ‘to assist you in your acclimation to the wizarding world as well as accessing your vaults.’ The following was written in a slightly shakier had, as if added swiftly. ‘If I could reiterate the sentiment in the previous letter: congratulations, Mr. Potter. We look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts. Yours sincerely,’ and the same signature followed. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. Another thump, and even Dudley couldn’t be that stupid. Two thumps in succession, and Vernon answered the door to find a giant, stooping to avoid the ceiling.

Vernon Dursley proceeded to do what he would never admit to anyone: he squealed like a child and ran off with his hands up. Peering from his cupboard, Harry was reminded of Dudley’s late-morning cartoons. Studying the giant man, Harry thought he was rather unkempt but seemed nice enough, not running off after Uncle Vernon nor destroying the house. Harry took a skeptical look at the letter. Maybe this was a wizard, and Harry would get that big too someday. He stepped out into the open.

Bracing himself to talk to a possible madman, Harry asked, “Are- are you from the school?”

“HARRY POTTER! WHAT WERE YA HIDING IN THERE FOR?” Harry winced at the volume, which seemed to work to quiet the big man down. “Er, sorry Harry. Yeah, I’m here to get you yer Hogwarts things and all.”

Petunia swung around the corner, Vernon behind her and Dudley waddling along. “He will not be going!” her shrill voice called out. “No, no, no!” But Hagrid ushered Harry along and he snuck a grin back at the family as he left.

\--

 “Now, there’s lots to get, and a few days before term starts, and oh, yer birthday in a few days, can’t forget that, yeah. Now, not sure if you know, but I’m keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts.” He swelled even bigger with pride and Harry nodded along. It must be a big school, to have a real groundskeeper. That would make sense, if all wizards were as big as Hagrid. “Wish we could get you in a bit early, really get a start on the other first years, knowing your way around and all, but takin’ the train’s a real experience you can’t miss. So it’s a few days in a stuffy room, if you don’t mind it. Could get you back to your family, but I doubt you’d miss ‘em all that much, eh?” Harry nodded vigorously.

“A hotel sounds perfect, Mr. Hagrid, thank you.”

“Just Hagrid, hey, just Hagrid please. Now we’ll be getting you a wand, and all those things on your list, and a familiar- I’m partial to owls myself, very useful-”

“Oh, no owl for me, thanks. I’m not sure I’d like a pet.” Harry shook his head. “Keeping anything locked up is a bit off for me.” Hagrid grinned at him like he’d hung the moon and nearly looked close to tears. He seemed very emotional about the subject.

Harry was amazed by the Leaky Cauldron, and that not all wizards were huge, and by bricks that knew in what order they were tapped in. He was amazed by so many people, all magical. He was flat out flattened by having actual money for him- for him, from his parents, murdered. That was a bit of a downer. But after that debacle they headed for the wand shop, and Harry made real magic, and it was amazing. Even if the entire wizarding world seemed determined to remind him that he was still somehow tied to his parents’ murderer.

Hagrid steered Harry by the store with a “we’ll just look, see, some of them do much better in captivity than the wild, been born to it and all,” which Harry was about to disagree with and to share the opinion of a certain zoo snake when they actually entered Magical Menagerie. “I also like to look in on a few favorites, see if they’ve found a home, I think one of the salesman has finally taken a liking to me-“

No sooner had he said this than a flustered-looking young man behind the counter took one look at Hagrid, groaned and erupted, “I quit! I quit, it’s enough, Streelers all over, finally cleaned up, now this,” Hagrid looked mildly put out but erupted in a smile when a tiny old lady emerged from somewhere in the mess of cages.

“Don’t quit, he’ll be gone soon enough.” The young man fumed.

“I’m taking my break.” The old lady nodded and smiled up at Hagrid. Harry thought privately that she looked as if she would barely make it to Hagrid’s kneecap. Was this amount of height difference normal in the wizarding world?

“Hagrid, nice to see you again. Do be mindful of the glass ones this time, dear, my boy really will quit if I have him clean up one more spill today.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “And this is…?”

Harry stuck his hand out to her. “Harry Potter, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”

“Harry Potter, indeed! And they have this big lug escorting you before first year, is that it? Well, Mr. Potter, take a good look around. I simply couldn’t let you leave here without a familiar today.” Harry wanted to tell her about his stance on keeping animals, but there was something about the little old lady that warned him off. “I’m Penny Mellontow, Miss Mellontow to you young man, just let me know when you meet your new furry or scaly or feathery or amphibious friend. I’ll get them out of the cage for you.”

Harry figured he could just slip out when he had browsed for a bit. Hagrid seemed happy to be there. He passed cages with owls, with cats, toads. It seemed the shop largely catered to the school’s requirements. They also had some cages with snails and other slimy things, boasting ‘Best slime for potions!’ or ‘Eats only magical residue!’ Harry made the round of the shop, ready to leave no matter what the old lady said, when he passed by a dark alcove in the walls of cages. It had only one stack of cages, and Harry was startled to see that they were all snakes of different colors and sizes. One was even purple. Harry wanted to say hi, but wasn’t sure if it would be rude. Most of them were sleeping, after all. One of the snakes slithered past the tank wall nearest to the room. It was dark, but had a bit of the viper’s look, that zigzag along the top. Harry knelt a bit to look into its eyes and was surprised to find them blue instead of brown. He was just about to say hello when the old lady put a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

“That is a special breed, meant to head off to one of the Ministry’s curse breakers, but he took one look at it and waved it off. Not sure what I’ll do with him now. He’s a bit like a kneazle, you see.” Harry did not see, and didn’t, in fact, know what a kneazle is. “Doesn’t mind wards, though he can sniff them out. Not sure how the curse breaker was going to train him, but he has the ability. Or so my breeder tells me. Not sure why it had to be a snake. Not fond of the beasts, myself.” She shared a significant look with Hagrid, who had rounded a corner of cat cages. “But they do have their own little quirks. I keep a few in case. Breeder might have been teasing about there being a bit of Runespoor in the mix, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Hagrid interrupted, “What about the ban? No new creatures, I thought.”

“Well, it’s not really a new species, just a bit of a bending of a breed…”

Harry wanted to talk to the snake, but she kept on talking and he didn’t want to interrupt. He wished, again, that he could have a snake at school, but he didn’t want to cause trouble before he even got there. Finally, Hagrid piped up and asked about some loud exotic bird by the entrance, and they wandered toward it.

“Hello,” Harry hissed quietly. The snake turned to look at him, but didn’t respond. Maybe it only worked with non-magical snakes, Harry thought sadly. “Can you hear me?” Maybe it wouldn’t make it through the glass. But the snake nodded. “Hello! You’re the first magical snake I’ve met.”

The snake’s voice was muffled, or strangled somehow. “You. First wizard.”

“Didn’t the wizard who hatched you talk to you?” The snake shook its head.

“Silly. Wizard. All silly wizards.” Harry doubted that all wizards were silly. “I’m called-” the snake let out a strange hissing noise that Harry didn’t understand. He mimicked it back, however, and the snake nodded.

“I’m Harry Potter. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Harry, time to go,” called Hagrid from the storefront.

“Oh, goodbye,” he pronounced the snake’s name hesitantly, “I hope we meet again someday.”

“Goodbye, Harry Potter.”

\--

With all his school books, Harry could hardly stand the wait for term to begin. He started reading ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ as he lounged on the bed- in his very own room, where he could spread out. That was still a bit of an adjustment. He pored over the description of Basilisks and Ashwinders and Runespoors, amazed at such strange snakes. Of course, everything in the book was amazing, but snakes could speak, and that meant they were much cooler. The wizarding world was awesome, and he couldn’t wait for Hogwarts to open.

When the day came, Tom the innkeeper ushered Harry and his suitcase down a dark hallway without a word and pushed him into the middle of what looked like a small room. Harry was about to ask what in the world was happening, when a green light flashed all around him. It felt like he had been caught around the waist and flung spinning into an ocean of noise. He raised his head, a bit dizzy, to see a sign, just like the train station, for a platform nine and three-quarters. He barely had time for an incredulous, “What?” before he was being pushed onto the train. Thankfully, Hogwarts Express was printed prominently so he was sure he was in the right place. He snagged an empty compartment and had just put his things up when he met Ron, then Hermione. Neither of them thought him strange beyond the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, and he was just happy to be headed in to what he hoped would be a wonderful school year.

Harry’s first glimpse of Hogwarts was beyond imagining. He had no idea it was in a _castle_. It had a _moat_. No wonder they needed a groundskeeper! Then they were brought to an entry hall bigger than the Dursley’s entire house and Harry might need to sit down. They had _ghosts_. In the castle. Where students were taught. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall caught his eye and, dare he imagine, relieved her severe look with a bit of a smile. She explained the house system, which went a bit over Harry’s head. There were so many kids Harry wondered if Hogwarts was the only wizard school in the entire world. She peered over the crowd for a moment, before peeking beyond the doors. Receiving a nod, she then threw them open. She led the way into the hall, sparkling with starlight and candles and the curious gazes of older children. ~~~~

Harry gaped at the sky above. It was like a dream, like a memory. Four banners waved above the tables- Lion, Badger, Raven, Snake. He nearly blocked out the Headmaster’s speech, and faded back in to hear about some hat you had to try on to get sorted into houses. Magic. Weird stuff.

Then it sang a song, which was much, much weirder, but explained a bit about the houses and helped Harry to figure out that this was a _personality test_. He supposed it made a bit of sense, studying with those who had the same motivations as you.

Hermione, the nice girl with the glasses-repairing spell that they’d met on the train, went to Gryffindor. That fit, Harry thought. She didn’t seem like the type that had time for things like fear. Though he thought Ravenclaw was just for witches and wizards like her.

The sorting stretched out and all sorts of nightmares chased each other through Harry’s head- not being chosen, the Dursleys again, St. Brutus’s, maybe he could apprentice under Hagrid.

“There isn’t a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin,” Ron nodded knowingly to Malfoy’s sorting.

“Well, that’s not really their fault though, right?” Harry mumbled back.

“What?” Ron looked really surprised, and said it a bit loudly. Harry hushed him, looking around.

“Don’t you think snakes are really cool, though? I’ve read all about the magical varieties, and-”

“Harry Potter!” rang out, and Harry smiled nervously at Professor McGonagall as she watched him walk to the hat. She placed it on his head and it spoke into his mind directly.

 _‘Ah, a challenge. Plenty of-‘_  the hat lapsed into silence. _‘I see into your head, Mr. Potter. That is how I work, I am the sorting hat. I mentioned it in the song. Now, I’m going to tell you that I will not place you in Slytherin based off a childhood fascination with snakes. We are in a bit of a time crunch here, more to sort and all that, so I’ll make it brief. The houses are what they are, and most could fit in any one. For instance, you’re a hard worker, loyal. Not a bad mind. Brave when it counts. The patience and desire to plan success. But I’ll send you off with a bit of advice. You could have gone either way here. If you had a strong distaste for one, I would have sent you to the other. My advice is this: your choices matter, Mr. Potter. Never think they don’t. With that in mind, best of luck to you in “_ SLYTHERIN!”

The hat was taken off his head and he looked up at Professor McGonagall, who had gone a bit paler and was looking up at the Headmaster. He stepped off the platform to his new table, decked in green. Everyone seemed a bit confused. Did he make a wrong choice? He took a seat. McGonagall proceeded to other names, some of them Slytherin, but the table stayed pretty quiet throughout. Harry took a moment to look up at the head table and scanned the faces there. It seemed like only a few were still actively interested in the sorting, Quirrel and the Headmaster among them. He wanted to ask about the man with the greasy black hair, but nobody had talked to him and he didn’t want to break the silence. The man was just staring at him so intently. He met the man’s eyes and waved a little. That got him to turn his head. He redirected his wave to Hagrid, who returned it though he didn’t smile. Was there something really, really bad about Slytherin?

“Ronald Weasley!” Harry watched Ron’s pale face as he donned the hat. Ron seemed really happy to be in Gryffindor, and Harry could barely see past the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables a veritable sea of Ron-colored hair accept him. Wow, that’s a big family, Harry thought a bit wistfully. He looked around at the Slytherin table and saw a bunch of people staring at him. Harry flushed and looked down at his empty plate. Gryffindor might have been better, he thought wretchedly. At least Ron would have been there. Instead he was here with one of the only people he’d offended so far.

Blaise Zabini sat down right across from Harry and grinned at him, though he didn’t say anything, either. Harry smiled back uncertainly. But finally, the sorting was over, and the dishes filled with so much marvelous food that Harry could _actually eat_ , not just look at, and he had no interest in talking when there was so much to try. They had steak, and potatoes, and everything Harry wanted in such quantities that it would kill him to try and eat it all. He tried not to make a fool of himself.

“Wouldn’t have expected Slytherin for you, Potter,” Malfoy mused only slightly viciously. Harry tried not to jump at someone suddenly addressing him. Malfoy seemed a bit confused at his own question, but Harry answered anyway.

“Why not?” Harry asked between bites of food. “All my best friends have been snakes.” He smiled crookedly at his plate and those around him laughed nervously. They didn’t take him seriously. Suddenly a shining, silvery ghost seemed to phase into place beside Malfoy, who let out a manly yelp. Harry swallowed his laughter. The ghost didn’t make him feel much like laughing. It was a man with staring vacant eyes and a suspiciously brighter flush to his clothes that Harry had the sick suspicion was blood.

“Ah, Baron.” Zabini edged. “Hello.” But the ghost just turned his eyes to the boy and inclined his head before returning to the distance. Zabini shrugged. He turned to Harry. “How do you like it so far, Harry Potter? Slytherin house, I mean.”

“You’re all a bit quiet, honestly.” Harry was a bit taken aback by his own cheek, but held his head up. He was rewarded by a real laugh from Zabini.

“Well we’re all a bit shocked, aren’t we,” a large boy asked, his mouth full. A girl next to him made a disgusted face.

“Chew with your mouth closed, Warrington, we aren’t shocked enough to forget our manners.”

In response, he opened his mouth wide. Harry actually laughed. They were kids like any other, really. He didn’t know why he was that worried. Zabini leaned closer. “You know, we’re shocked because the Dark Lord was in this house.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” Harry replied, scooping up some potatoes.

“Makes… sense?”

“Yeah, it is a bit weird. But it isn’t like the whole house is evil.” He got a few looks. “Oh no, is the whole house evil?” His eyes widened and the potatoes fell off of his fork. “Oh no.”

“Calm down, we aren’t all evil,” the same girl replied, but she looked a bit shifty. Oh god, he got sorted into the evil house. Harry Potter: bad luck machine.


	2. Chapter 2

To close out the festivities the students received a vague warning and sang a bit of a song, though Slytherin house sang quietly and with much face-making. Then they followed their prefects down, down, into the depths of the castle, to- “Does Slytherin really have its dormitory in the dungeons?”

“Yep,” a tall brown-haired boy replied. “Right underneath the Black Lake.”

“Uh, but isn’t it… cold? Dungeony?” The boy looked at him like he was crazy. “Right. Magic. Of course.” The group stopped seemingly out of nowhere in the hall.

The prefect spoke very clearly: “First-years, listen up. I’m not going to repeat myself. The doorway is here, in this stretch of wall. The passwords will be posted as they change in the common room. This password won’t change for the next month, so get your bearings while it lasts. We’re Slytherins, not Hufflepuffs, so I don’t expect any of you to come crying to me about forgetting it. And for Merlin’s sake, don’t write it down.” Harry, who had planned on doing just that, grimaced. “This month’s password is Ashwinder.” Oh, Harry thought. That’s easy, incredibly easy. Snake names, of course.

Crabbe, at his customary place at Malfoy’s side, started, “More like _as-”_ before Malfoy slapped a hand over his mouth, but giggled a bit all the same. Children, Harry reflected again, really were all the same. The wall seemed to split before them, showing the entry to the Slytherin common room. It was very… green, Harry thought. And dungeon-y, still quite dungeon-y despite the tapestries and elegant furniture. It had windows that did little to dispel the gloom, peering into the depths of what must be the Black Lake. A small, blonde girl laughed when a giant tentacle passed over one.

OK, giant squid. Magic. Dungeon rooms. But above the enormous fireplace stretched a painting of a snake. Harry thought he had embraced the moving-portrait thing, but as the snake turned a green eye to wink at them he heard, ‘ _Welcome to Slytherin house, young ones.’_ Harry smiled. He was shown to his room- unfortunately shared with Malfoy as well as Zabini and a reedy boy who introduced himself as Nott. Nott didn’t say much else, but went straight to bed. Harry decided to follow his example and fell right to sleep.

His dreams were disturbed by weak whispers and a deep aching pain that Harry couldn’t isolate. There was also a creeping, pleased feeling. That was perhaps the most disturbing part of all.

\--

Harry loved magic. He loved Herbology, having a bit of practice in his Aunt’s gardens. He loved Charms, he loved Astrology and the movement of stars mirrored in the Great Hall’s sky. He loved Transfiguration, and he was even a bit talented at it. Professor McGonagall seemed to have gotten over her avoidance of him since the feast, and looked him in the eye when he presented his slightly-pointy match. He could have gotten the same result with a dull knife, but he hadn’t and that was pretty cool. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit funny, Slytherins laughing to each other about Quirrell’s oddities. Every once in a while Harry saw a look of fury came over Quirrell’s face, and he swore to himself that he would never be caught making fun of him, creepy turban or no. He loved everything about magic, even if it seemed like every Slytherin knew more than him.

Malfoy got sick of pushing his face in it after about day two of Harry giving no reaction. After that, he actually seemed a bit helpful. Harry made sure to encourage this behavior, though he still didn’t think Malfoy would make a very good friend. For one, Crabbe and Goyle scared him a bit. And he seemed to have a bit of Dudley-face. For his own protection, he wouldn’t call it that out loud. Sytherins seemed to have a serious problem with Muggles and Muggle-adjacent things.

Finally, it was Friday. Harry thought giddily about what he would be doing back at the Dursley’s. He would be cleaning, maybe, for a dinner he wouldn’t get enough of. Cooking it, probably. Cleaning up after it, definitely. Looking into a future where Uncle Vernon would snap at him for two whole days. However, Harry was magic. And magic Harry Potter got to have Potions class today. He’d skimmed bits of the textbook. They would get to make so many cool things, and it seemed a lot like cooking, albeit over a cauldron and not a stovetop. All the Slytherins said Professor Snape was really nice to them, too.

So Harry was blindsided by the hostility when he couldn’t answer his question on bezoars. Snape, the greasy guy from the welcoming feast, hated him. Harry searched for a reason but couldn’t find one, and Malfoy seemed confused too. When Snape asked again, about plant differences, Harry tried his best to remember what he had read. “I uh, think they’re the same plant, sir. Monkshood and wolfsbane. Purple flowers.”

“Well, at least you cracked the spine on your book, even if you stopped at chapter one. Sit down, Potter.” Harry was more than happy to. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at him, wordlessly asking what Harry had done. Harry shrugged helplessly. “A bezoar, for your ignorance, is found…”

At least he didn’t make a fool of himself in the brewing, though that was mostly because Malfoy kept correcting him. Every correction he made was useful, though there were so many things involved in the brewing that it just didn’t make a difference for long. It didn’t help that Snape kept hovering behind them like an overgrown bat, sniffing every once in a while. It was like he was trying his hardest to find something wrong and couldn’t. The potion wrapped up to what seemed to be a success, and Harry caught up with Ron on his way out the door.

“Hey, Ron! It’s nice to see you.”

“Er, yeah, Harry. How’s uh… how’s Slytherin?”

“Quiet, mostly. I’ve been reading and stuff. Some of them don’t like me much.” Strangely this seemed to perk Ron up a bit.

“Well, we could try and smuggle you into the Griffyndor room sometime, Fred and George- those are my brothers- they’re mad at things like that.”

“Oh, I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. We could all study in the library though. Have you been in there yet? It’s amazing. So many books, and you can check them out and everything.” Hermione Granger seemed to have a radar for the word ‘library’, as she jumped into the conversation.

“They actually have a fascinating organization method, too, not just by author or topic but…” Ron gave her a funny look and she trailed off. “Oh, sorry. I’ve just- I’ve spent some time in the library already, and-”

“I haven’t gotten the system down yet, at all! If you’d like to study together sometime and show me that would be wicked.” He smiled at the girl and she seemed taken aback, but happy.

“Oh, of course! What’s your favorite class so far? Mine’s Transfiguration, though Potions seems like a great challenge, it’s just more physical, you know, and it doesn’t make as much sense, I mean, direction of stirs?”

“Right! Malfoy was talking about the crushing of the ingredients and juices and all and I just flashed back to chopping garlic for the first time, I swear I could smell it-” Hermione’s eyes were lighting up and Harry was really excited about a new friend despite the amusement on Ron’s face, when they reached the doorway into the Great Hall. “Oh, I gotta go this way to Slytherin table.” He was a bit disappointed at the abrupt end to the conversation, but made plans with the two to study later and counted it as a win. Ron didn’t seem as excited.

Malfoy was already set down when Harry arrived, so he set his bag down and began to load his plate. Malfoy was bracing himself and Harry already knew he wasn’t going to like this when he started, “You shouldn’t hang out with” and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What? Gryffindors? Weasleys? Muggleborns? Which one, Malfoy?” It must have been the leashed anger in his tone that made Malfoy throw up his hands.

“Yes! All of them!”

“Look at it this way, like a real Slytherin. Ron Weasley has a lot of brothers that can make my life very difficult. Hermione Granger is a clear frontrunner for our year after the first week. Making friends is not a bad thing, Malfoy. Did you want to come to our study session tomorrow?”

“I don’t. I can’t. You’re the… You’re the Boy-Who-Lived! I can’t say no to that!”

“Well, you can, I mean, nothing’s stopping you.” Harry put his head in his hand as he looked at Draco. The boy looked like he was going to roll his eyes all the way back in his head. What a drama queen.

“Yes but my father would kill me. He’d kill me for studying with a muggleborn _or_ turning you down!”

“He wouldn’t even know, on either count. Make your own choices, Malfoy, Merlin’s tits.” Harry had really acclimated to the whole magical swear words thing. They had their own quaint charm.

“It’s…” A rather ugly girl sitting next to Malfoy that Harry actually hadn’t seen until now piped up. She seemed to be having difficulty due to laughter. “It’s Merlin’s _beard,_ or his _pants_ , and then _Morgana’s_ tits.”

“Oh, that makes more sense, thanks. Thought maybe he had a spectacular pair of-“

“I’m going to die because Harry Potter got sorted in Slytherin, Pansy!” Malfoy moaned.

“Oh yes, you great-” Harry’s mind meandered to the fact that people got cut off a lot, as Snape loomed over them. It certainly didn’t take him long to get up here after his class. “Professor Snape.”

“Miss Parkinson. Mr. Malfoy. Mr… Potter.” They nodded at him. “I trust you are a good influence for each other?” They didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so Snape just nodded and swept off. He did sweep very well.

“I honestly don’t think so,” Harry wondered.

“Definitely not,” the other two chimed. Crabbe and Goyle, across the table, kept eating.

\--

Harry didn’t see the headline until the next day, “Gringott’s Break-In, Nothing Stolen.” He vaguely identified it as his birthday, but it faded from his mind as easily as the name of the last star on his Astronomy homework.

He had other priorities, like his very first study session with friends. Playing the letter game with the grass snakes didn’t count. This was real, grown-up studying, with notes. In the library. Harry’s palms were a little bit sweaty. He tried his best not to wipe them on his robes as he followed Malfoy up the dungeon staircase into the castle proper. Harry wasn’t lying to Ron, the library was immense and impressive. It had soaring windows for natural light, but it never seemed to heat up or become too bright. It had honest-to-goodness ladders to reach some of the books, and Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of where to find something. He suspected the Dewey decimal system would be taken as some kind of evil organization here.

Hermione, there already of course, waved them over. Malfoy tried his best to wipe the sneer of his face, Harry was sure. Malfoy was trying, weak as it may seem. Granger won him over the best way possible, in that she was just better than him. Somehow, instead of infuriating him, it made him ask her questions. They soon realized that Hermione _loved_ being asked questions. She was practically a fountain of information. They didn’t even need the books. Ron showed up about an hour in and wasn’t much help, though he did listen semi-diligently. The windows were a bit of a distraction. The clouds seemed to have the oddest inclination to form books and quills and… they were probably charmed windows. They packed up eventually, with Harry describing the study session as a rousing success and the other two boys looking at him in disgust. Hermione glowed.

“Same time next week?”

“Let’s just see how it goes, Harry,” chimed nearly in sync with “Oh, just let me die, Potter.”

All the same, the schedule was set, and their academic careers were off to a good start.

\--

Sitting at the lunch table after a particularly good Transfiguration lesson, Harry wondered, “Can someone explain this ‘House Cup’ thing to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Slytherin hasn’t won since the Dark Lord lost to your face.” Harry wrinkled his nose.

“He didn’t lose to my…“

Nott shoved into the conversation almost literally, book bag thrown onto the floor between his feet. “Get points for right answers and for quidditch. House with the most points wins, cheers, nothing happens. Not worth it,” he concluded. Malfoy grabbed another bite of a sandwich and nodded.

“Why haven’t we won since Voldemort died?”

“Why do you think, Potter? Since the _Dark Lord_ died, we’ve had a bad reputation. The worst. Who wants to give points to the offspring of someone who followed someone who killed someone you knew?”

“Oh.” Harry returned to his own meal.

“Not that we don’t make an effort,” an older girl slid in across from them. “Slytherin does usually get pretty close to winning.” She stuck out her hand. “Emily Roggenbloom. Muggleborn.”

Harry blinked. “I didn’t think there were many muggleborn in Slytherin.”

“No, there aren’t,” she replied, matter-of-fact. Harry belatedly realized that might have been rude, and he was sure she got it all the time. “Most get warned away before the hat, and then it lets you know what you’re getting into before you get sorted. But this is where I belong, making a name for myself.” She tossed her glossy brown hair over her shoulder. “Like I would settle for Ravenclaw when all the connections are made in the common room. I want to know the next minister, not the next great librarian,” she scoffed. Harry thought she was oversimplifying, but Malfoy and Nott were more distracted by her hair than what she was saying.

“Well, nice to meet you, Emily. I hope you get to meet your minister.” She grinned back at him with a lot of teeth.

“Thanks, Harry Potter. If you ever need some help, I’m a fourth-year. I’ve got all the spells down pat.” She stood from the table with a wave.

The other two boys stared after her, a bit stunned. “Between her and Granger, do you think all muggleborn women are like that?” Nott considered.

Harry just laughed.

\--

Harry wandered down to the common room after a bad dream one night to see most of the green lights off. He hadn’t really thought about what it would look like, but the shadows seemed to grow. He was reminded again of the bad reputation of his house. It certainly looked like the lair of dark wizards. Sighing, he settled in a chair next to the banked fire. He couldn’t get his dream off his mind- Dudley in Quirrell’s turban, hissing at him and running to hide behind an Aunt Petunia wearing Snape’s robes. Harry looked up to see the Serpent of Slytherin House sleeping in his portrait. As he watched, it opened one great eye and peered at him. The dark green of its eye contrasted with the pale scales.

“ _Excuse me for disturbing your rest. I’ll head back to bed soon_ ,” Harry explained, “ _I just had a bad dream_.”

The snake tilted its head and turned to look at him with the other eye. “ _Be at ease, child. No harm will come to you in the walls of Slytherin House.”_

Harry felt a wave of warmth and safety wash over him. He adored magic. “ _Thank you. I do think I’ll head back.”_ The snake nodded and curled up again as Harry rose from his chair. _“Um-,”_ he started, looking up at the serpent. _“I have a question for you, actually.”_

“ _Yes_?” the snake didn’t open its eyes again. “ _Ask it._ ”

_“If you’ve been here for a long time… do you know, is Slytherin house really evil?”_

_“Evil? Who says what is evil and what is good? And what does a first-year wizard need to know of them?”_

“ _That sounds like something that an evil person would say,_ ” Harry sighed. “ _I have the bad feeling that I’m going to be tested on it so long as I’m here.”_

_“Maybe. Maybe not. Humans are complicated. Do as the snake does: follow your instincts, live to fight again, and don’t be stupid. Both Dark and Light wizards have passed through my halls. Their choices are their own.”_ Harry nodded.

_“Thank you, again. Good night.”_

_“Sleep well, Harry Potter.”_

\--

Harry wanted to squeal with joy, and for once it seemed like the first-years of Slytherin house were in the same boat. He spotted Malfoy in particular do a little skip as they progressed onto the flying field to see lines of brooms. Malfoy shot him a look that dared him to say something, but Harry just grinned into space. He waved at Ron and Hermione on the other side of the line. Ron waved back with a grin, but Hermione looked a bit sick. He supposed everyone had their weaknesses.

“Just watch, Potter. You’ll knock yourself right on your scarred head the first time you try it,” Malfoy began. Harry sighed. Malfoy had been bragging about how good he was on a broom for what seemed like a whole week, though it was only a few days since the notice about flying lessons had been posted. Most everyone in Slytherin house had a story or two to share about flying or Quidditch, and Harry really couldn’t wait to try. He didn’t even mind falling off a few times.

They went through the motions with Madam Hooch, then suddenly, before Harry could even blink, Neville was off and about and in the next second, on the ground. Madam Hooch took him into the castle and then Malfoy was laughing, and grabbing something off the ground. It made Harry feel a bit sick, the way Malfoy laughed. What was funny about an accident like that?

“Malfoy, stop. What is that?” Harry hoped to derail his tirade against Longbottom.

“It’s a remembrall, turns red when you’ve forgotten something. Idiot probably needs it, has the mental stamina of his toad…” And Gryffindors were snapping at Malfoy to give it back, to stop being such an ass, and Slytherins were fighting back twice as snotty.

“Malfoy, come on, that isn’t yours, it isn’t even that interesting, is it?” Malfoy turned that snobby smirk on him, fueled by the crowd and all the attention.

“I find it interesting, so I’ll keep it.” “Malfoy, seriously-“ “Alright, Potter, have it your way, I’ll leave it for Longbottom somewhere he’s likely to find it… Up in a tree? The roof? In a sewer, where he and his dirty frog belong? Who knows?” He smiled, eyes dark, tossing the remembrall in his hand. He rose off the ground and Harry couldn’t do anything to stop him. He looked around at his friends on both sides snarling at each other and took off after him. Harry didn’t really know what flying would be like, but it was just like all the magic he’d come across so far. It just was. The broom followed his lead and soon enough he was right on Malfoy’s tail, overtaking him, but Malfoy threw the remembrall across the field, and Harry just had to catch it.

“HARRY POTTER.” Oh, no. That was... McGonagall. She was furious. Looking past her, Harry was glad to see Malfoy looking at least a little sheepish for maybe getting him grounded… suspended… could they expel him for this? “Come with me immediately.” Harry left the broom where it lay and tossed the remembrall to Ron when McGonagall’s back was turned. He would have flipped off Malfoy, but he wouldn’t have known what it meant. He settled for the meanest, coldest stare he could muster up. He swore, if Malfoy got him kicked out for his attention-seeking stunt, he’d- he’d- he’d send a letter to his father. Malfoy shrank back at the assured vengeance in Potter’s face as he swept by.

“Mr. Potter, this is a very serious offence. Madam Hooch was not supervising, you could have harmed yourself or others.” Harry knew how to take a lecture. He sat quietly on his hands. “Well? Have you anything to say for yourself?” Harry shook his head. He may be a Slytherin, with all the sense of self-preservation that implies, but giving up Malfoy wouldn’t help him. “Your Head of House will give your punishment, then.”

Harry opened his mouth to say, ‘Please, no, anything but that,’ but it seemed Snape had been in the room the whole time, with his sneaky bat ways.

“Mr. Potter. I’d hate to think you were developing a bad habit of getting into trouble.” Harry thought of asking what trouble he’d been in before, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Snape eyed him silently. He looked up and held his gaze. “Tell me, why on earth did you go swooping about when given express instruction not to? Do you believe yourself above the rules?”

Harry thought of locked cupboards and snakes in the garden. “No, sir. I am not above the rules.”

“Then why?” Harry, still unwilling to throw Malfoy under the bus, shrugged. He answered truthfully, “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Ah, yes, the evils done to wizardkind by those who _didn’t mean any harm_.” McGonagall straightened in her chair at his tone and levelled a quelling look. “Professor McGonagall, I believe Mr. Malfoy should be waiting outside. Might I let him in? I suspect he has further information for us.” She nodded and sat back in her chair. She nearly sighed.

“Hello Professors, I just wanted to let you know that I accept responsibility for my part in today’s altercation.” Malfoy didn’t play humble well, Harry thought, but he did try. Snape nearly smiled.

“Mr. Malfoy, care to explain?” If Malfoy would have just looked at him, Harry would have shaken his head, but he did not.

“Well, sir, I actually took off first, I had spotted a possession of Neville’s that he had dropped while high up, and was just returning it, sir, when the people on the ground got all riled up. Harry had just come up to see what was taking so long, as I didn’t want to try and land in a bunch of angry people, when I dropped the item and Harry took such great care in not letting it break. Truly it was a great catch, wouldn’t you say, Professor McGonagall?” Her eyes sparkled a little bit before she turned away to hide it.  Harry thought it was a preposterous tale. Who on earth would believe it? Apparently, Snape. Maybe this was the supposed favoritism Slytherin was supposed to receive.

“Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. Twenty points from Slytherin for each of you, for disobeying direct instruction from your trainer. Mr. Potter, detention tomorrow night for unsafe maneuvers on a broomstick while in the company of impressionable first-years. We’ll be lucky if nobody breaks anything else trying it.” Forty points, Harry’s stomach sank. Slytherin house would ignore it out of him. And detention just for him? Not fair. But he’d take it. He nodded his head.

“Of course, Professor Snape.” Harry could, after all, take a lecture. He wasn’t even suspended.

\--

Maybe it would have been better, Harry thought with disgust, staring at the night’s task. Scrubbing cauldrons was one thing, but pickling skins? Why on earth would you pickle snake skin? Snape, grading papers across the classroom, wasn’t an approachable fellow by any sense of the word. He was, however, a teacher.

“Professor?” Snape stilled and lifted an eyebrow at him. “What is pickled snake skin actually used for?”

Snape looked both mildly surprised and aggressively annoyed. “That is boomslang skin. Pickling preserves it for use in potions that take more than six months’ brew time.” Harry thought that was pretty cool, and Snape returned to his work. He tried to remember the entry in Fantastic Beasts about Boomslangs, and forget that it was essentially tiny magical friend skin he was putting into the jars.

\--

As Harry anticipated, his relationship with the rest of Slytherin house took a hit it couldn’t really stand to take. Far beyond the childhood prank of pulling out his chair before he sat down (though that happened from time to time) the Slytherins were crafty. And patient. They caught at his ankles and ribs, tiny stinging hexes that felt like pinches and were just annoying enough that he wouldn’t go to Snape about them. Somehow, though, it seemed like Snape knew. He started actually confronting the persecutors when he caught them instead of letting them go. He kept an eye on Harry. Harry didn’t want to feel good about it, because Snape was his Head of House. He was supposed to be doing that the whole time.

Thankfully, Malfoy actually kept backing him. It seemed as if he had been adopted into the Malfoy crew, though he wrinkled his nose at being equated to Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson. Maybe, he thought, Malfoy was in _his_ crew, with Ron and Hermione, and that felt better. He figured what Malfoy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“To be honest,” Malfoy sighed at the breakfast table, “I could have gotten you tossed out on your ear, be grateful, Potter,”

“I’d be grateful if you shut up, you massive tool.”

“Hello, boys!” Hermione sat down next to them, he book bag swinging, as if it were easy as that. Harry froze along with the rest of the table. He knew Hermione wasn’t that stupid, she knew it was damn near dangerous for her to sit here. “I just wanted to check in with you, Harry, to make sure Malfoy wasn’t too pouty about you showing him up the first time you ever flew on a broom-“

“Hey!”

“Oh, so he is being pouty then,”

“I saved him from certain expulsion!”

“Oh, I suppose you weren’t in any trouble for _stealing_ Neville’s remembrall,”

“I just- I was-“

“You were definitely stealing it,” Harry interjected. “Not even a question, don’t get yourself confused with your own story.” Ron took this moment to settle in next to Hermione.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but this entire table is trying to kill all of you with their eyes. Now me, too. Come on, let’s just go to the Gryffindor table…”

Malfoy looked disgusted, “Not a chance, Weasley, they all have your table manners over there, I’ll stick with the death threats I know and love. Ever since Potter latched on to me I’ve gotten so used to them they keep me warm at night.”

\--

The Slytherin password changed from Ashwinder to discretion, and Harry forgot it almost immediately. He’d make excuses to head back with another Slytherin, but the only ones not avoiding him were Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Nott, and Zabini. It seemed like enough until you realized four of them travelled in one pack and the other two barely spoke to him in the first place. Hermione told him to make a mnemonic, but what was the point when it would change in just a couple of weeks? This was what got him into trouble. He was headed back from a library trip when he forgot the password. Then, Lucian Bole walked around the corner. Cursing, Harry turned and walked briskly away as if he had just left the common room. Bole was one who wouldn’t let it end if he caught Harry asking for help remembering a simple word. Bole was a beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and he looked it. He had the pinched pureblood face, but was built like a linebacker. Harry would admit to being a bit intimidated by the older boy. In this manner, Harry was out wandering further from his House, the clock ticking past curfew, when Filch’s cat spotted him. He was in deep, deep trouble. Thinking fast, he ran up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, asking ever so politely if he might talk to Ron, please.

“Dearie,” the fat lady frowned. “It’s past curfew.”

“Oh please, gracious lady, I forgot just one thing to ask Ron about and…” He thought faster. “It’s about a girl, you know, a girl-“

The fat lady fairly tittered in excitement. “Oh, young love! You know I wouldn’t stand in the way, in my younger days I was indeed quite the flirt…” Harry must have looked impatient, because she left her frame and returned quickly a bit less excited. “All right, he’s coming, untwist your knickers.”

Ron did emerge, with Hermione and Neville for some reason in tow. “Mate, you said it was about a girl, and she’s the only girl we have in common, so…”

Harry mentally slapped himself, and Ron, and gestured for them to follow him to a nearby classroom. If the fat lady heard them she might give them up.

“It wasn’t really about a girl, Ron, sorry Hermione.”

“Well I’d rather go in then, I don’t want to be out after curfew.”

“I just forgot the Slytherin password and Bole came around, and…”

Hermione scowled. “Oh, Bole! That lead-brain. He’s banned from the library, did you know that? The school library!”

Ron nodded. “He’s the worst kind of bully. I’m sure Fred and George can get you back in, Harry, let’s go ask.”

“I can’t go in your common room, the fat lady would scream Filch up in a heartbeat.”

“Alright, I’ll go get them.” Ron had just opened the door when a soft meow was heard. “Filch’s cat! We’ll be in so much trouble…” But the Gryffindor room was on the other side of the cat, and they heard footsteps, and they took off. Then they met a giant three-headed dog and a mystery. Harry, safe in bed after a quick jolt of adrenaline jostled loose an idea, thought about small packages from Gringotts. He thought about the safest place in the world. And he thought about discretion.

\--

Harry sat through a few Quidditch games, cheering for Slytherin. He didn’t love how physical the players got, and he especially didn’t love Bole. Or the other beater. In fact, Quidditch lost a bit of charm when he wasn’t the one flying. He’d stick to soaring around at his leisure and testing tricks with Ron and Malfoy, even if they got mad competitive at times.

\--

Halloween came around, and Harry didn’t like all the looks he was getting. From breakfast, to Charms (swish and flick, Harry, not jab-jab-flick!), to lunch, to the feast itself, until he just had to know. “Alright, what on earth is going on? Malfoy’s not complaining, Zabini, you’re not saying anything snotty about my hair, Parkinson, I know for a fact that my tie has been crooked all morning and you haven’t made one pig face at me.”

“Pig face? Excuse me?” But even that lacked the spark Harry was used to.

“Potter, it’s Halloween.”

“Yeah, there would be a strange amount of jack-o-lanterns around if that weren’t the case. And the bats. So what?”

“Well, today is the anniversary of, you know…” Malfoy gestured to encompass, ‘you know.’

“Why don’t you just assume I don’t.”

“It’s the fall of the Dark Lord, you imbecile,” Nott interjected from across the table. He didn’t even meet Harry’s eyes.

“Oh. That anniversary. With the whole… you know.”

“Yeah,” the table replied.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He would be lying if he said he felt nothing, suddenly knowing the day of his parents’ death. But he had made it through a full half of the day, and nothing had really changed. “So it’s big for me, but, ah, it’s big for you because...?”

“Half of Slytherins’ parents followed him,” Nott stated. Harry was surprised on two counts. Nott didn’t talk a lot, especially not to him, and not about things that mattered.

“I guess I… I sort of knew that. I mean, not in so many words.” He shrugged. Nobody would look at him, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Hermione and Ron popped up, too cheery for the atmosphere. They had barely gotten into greetings when Zabini got up and snarled at them, “Get lost. We don’t want blood traitors and mudbloods at our table. Or in our school.” Then he left the table. Hermione and Ron watched him go, Ron near trembling with rage and Hermione just trembling. She excused herself shortly after and once again Harry didn’t know how to fix it at all, everyone sitting at the table silently pushing food around their plates.

Then Quirrell incited a panic by warning of a troll attack. Ron thought Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor tower, but Patil said she wasn’t, and then the three boys were decidedly out of place in a girl’s bathroom. Of course, the troll was just a bit more out of place than they were.

They made a good team, the four of them, with Ron’s begrudging levitation spell. Malfoy was naturally annoying. Hermione shouted out what she knew of trolls, though it wasn’t much. Harry had a bit of wood and a nose to stick it into. Not his own, the troll’s. The troll’s nose. He was trying not to think too hard on it, which was difficult with Malfoy staring, horrified, at his be-bogeyed robes.

“There was a troll, Hermione, why on earth were you in the bathroom?” Ron’s voice was cutting shrill.

“Why was I- oh my god, I had to _pee_ , why does anyone go to the bathroom, I didn’t expect a great lumbering _troll._ ”

“It could have something to do with Zabini and his great lumbering intellect,” Malfoy stated drolly, lifting his robes in a decidedly dainty way over a growing puddle of water.

“Well, alright, that too. I may have just ducked in quietly for a bit of a cry, but honestly I could not have expected a mountain troll!”

Then McGonagall and Snape came in and Harry nearly wept in relief. He had never thought it before, but he found himself thinking it now; ‘Thank Merlin, real adults.’ He barely noticed Quirrell behind them.

\--

Malfoy was telling anyone who would listen about their run-in with the troll, and listeners learned to watch Harry’s eye rolls for cues on when he started to stretch the tale a bit too tall. It was a rather magnificent story, though, even if it seemed to infuriate Snape. Oddly enough it seemed to make Quirrell mad too, if the way he started to hang around and glare was any clue. Harry began to have headaches, and blamed it at least a little on that strange smell Quirrell had. His dreams got darker, and he’d wake up sweating with no memory of it some nights.

It was the Friday after one such night, and the potion they were brewing wasn’t helping Harry’s exhaustion at all. Today they were brewing a sort of wizards’ superglue. It was a common first-year potion, a bit more advanced than what they had been doing. With Malfoy’s tutoring each Saturday it should have been no trouble for Harry, but the fumes put him into some sort of stupor. He just couldn’t focus. Malfoy, his potions partner, wasn’t keeping as close an eye on him as he would have at the beginning of the year. Snape was attending to the clumsy Mr. Neville Longbottom. These factors combined to let a certain dark force push Harry closer and closer to the surface of the potion. Closer and closer, he circled, letting up when someone looked over, so it just looked like Harry had been checking the surface. Harry barely registered it as a weight on his neck, on his back… like a guiding hand. His head throbbed. He was so, so tired…

Suddenly a sharp hand gripped onto his shoulder from out of nowhere. “Mr. Potter! If you set your face into that potion you will not breathe again! Do you understand me?” Snape nearly yelled.

“What?” Harry asked. “Why would I… I was just…” He closed his eyes for a movement, which became two.

“If you are that tired, I suggest getting to sleep earlier! A distracted potion maker is a dead one.” Snape took a closer look at how disoriented Potter was, then a terrible idea rose. His leg nearly buckled underneath him. If it was truly Quirrell- and he was targeting Potter… "Hospital wing. Stabilize and cease brewing, children. I expect no accidents. In fact, Mr. Longbottom, perhaps just step away from the cauldron. You’re all dismissed when your potion will not explode and not beforehand.” He pulled Harry along by his arm to Dumbledore’s office. He would have been alerted by Imperious, but perhaps just a suggestion to an exhausted student… Someone had tried to kill Harry Potter, and Snape would figure out who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing these pretty fast, so if you see an error, please let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

“Sorry, Harry, been a bit busy, that’s all. Big grounds, you know.”

“Of course, Hagrid, I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of your work. This is Ron, and this is Hermione, they’re two of my best friends. I would have brought Malfoy, too, but he can be a real arse when he gets something wrong in his head.”

Hagrid let out a loose chuckle and warmed a little.

“Ah, you know, it does me good to see Gryffindors and Slytherins being friends. Hasn’t been that way very often, by my reckoning. Hell of a rivalry, even back when… way back when.” He looked at Harry a bit strangely. “Just hard to be good friends with your guard up, you know? Just havin’ your guard up.”

Harry got the impression that Hagrid might not really want to try to be friends with a Slytherin Harry Potter.

\--

Snape called Harry to his office after class on Friday. “Mr. Potter,” he began as usual. “It seems you have recovered from last week’s accident. Your coursework has improved with Mr. Malfoy’s tutoring.” Snape fell silent.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry raised his eyebrows, waiting for more.

“I’m going to be painfully honest for a moment, Mr. Potter.”

“Painful for you or me?”

“Both. Last week was not an accident. Someone tried to kill you, with your own potion, in my classroom.” Harry held his breath. “Someone tried to go down the trapdoor guarded by a Cerberus hound on Halloween. I know you know of it. But do you know what is hidden there?” Harry shook his head, numb. “You are a child, Harry Potter. And a very large part of me wants to keep all of this from you. But that cannot protect you from what is coming.”

“From who is coming.” Harry drew the conclusion abruptly. “You think-“

“I strongly suspect.”

“How?”

“There are ways, Mr. Potter. There are terrible ways.”

Harry straightened up and tried to be a bit more Slytherin than before. “What can I know, sir?”

“I’ve already told you all you need, Mr. Potter. Given my way, you wouldn’t know even that, but Dumbledore believes you deserve the truth. However, you should rest easy. The object is guarded by the full might of the Hogwarts staff.”

“I need a plan! I can’t just- just wait around for you to kill him, or stop him, how do you kill something dead?”

“It is my hope that even this much is too much. I hope you will not need it. You are dismissed, Potter.” Harry wanted to protest, but it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He’d ask Hermione when he got the chance.

\--

Harry blinked and it was winter. The Slytherin common room windows froze with the lake, and older students went around with warming charms on. Harry just bundled up and took the ridicule, sometimes coming out of his room in his blanket. He thought it was better than Malfoy’s plan, which was to pretend so hard that he wasn’t shivering that it became true. There seemed to be no escape from the cold in the dungeons. The chairs by the fire became so fought over that it had devolved to real hexes. Snape put an end to that quick. Harry once tried to get the Serpent to hold a place for him, but it just laughed him off.

Everyone was very excited for holidays to begin, except for Harry. Malfoy only got in a few jabs about Harry being alone for Christmas before Harry shot off a jet of sparks. Malfoy’s robes nearly caught fire, it was great, even if he hadn’t really meant to do that. Malfoy nearly almost changed his mind about going home, then, but he had already passed the sign-up on and Snape hated paperwork. Harry made sure to let him know that he and Ron would have plenty of fun without him.

The leaving feast was miraculous as usual, all decked out in lights, with trees that put the Dursleys’ to shame and sometimes jetted out tinsel to land on unsuspecting students’ heads. Harry didn’t quite move out of the way in time and had to put up with a bemused Nott picking it off him for most of the feast. At the end, Malfoy and Hermione waved goodbye and swiftly separated to walk the path to the train as far away from each other as they could.

“Just you and me, buddy,” Harry whined.

“Well, you and me and all my brothers,” Ron whined back.

“Hey, Harry! Haven’t seen you since the train-“

“Or maybe that time we tripped you-“

“Or that time we enpinkened Malfoy-“

“Good times,” they chimed in unison.

“Hello, Fred, George. Got any big plans for the break?”

“Nah, setting up some great stuff for after, though-“

“Do you think you could get us into the Slytherin common room?”

“No,” Harry replied laughing. “The Serpent isn’t like your fat lady. We have _standards._ ” He raised an eyebrow. “Also, don’t focus so much on our house, unless it’s on Zabini. Or Bole. Or- You know, yeah, there are a lot of terrible people around me, go nuts.”

“Such cruelty, next dark lord, Harry Potter,” Fred or George sniffed, which Ron didn’t seem to find funny if the way he shrank back was any sign.

“Haha, sure, let’s go have a snowball fight or something, guys, not hang around here talking about all the people we don’t like.” Ron shifted nervously.

“Ron, are you… Taking back the snowball fight ban of 1989?”

“Oh Merlin, no, it was just an idea-“

“GO!” The twins shot off in one direction, leaving Ron and Harry standing at the door to the castle.

“Does that mean we’re on a team, then? I’ve never played in a real snowball fight before…”

“No, this is going to be the worst introduction, if I thought it would stop them I’d have us go inside, we’re going to get crushed.” And they did. It wasn’t even a fight, the twins were a machine. Harry had a lot of fun, then they all went up to the Gryffindor tower to warm up.

“Merlin, it is so warm up here,” Harry unwound his scarf from around his neck and virtually felt the ice steaming off him. “You guys are lucky, the dungeons are so, so cold right now.”

“Should’ve been in Griffindor, then, mate.” Ron had stretched out on the couch before the fire, his words muffled due to his face planted straight into a pillow.

“Yes, well, shut up,” He retorted.

“Brilliant sally, Harold, maybe try for a ‘I know you are but what am I’ next, a real stumper, one of the classics,” Fred or George remarked.

Harry sniffed and deigned not to answer. Ron’s other brother Percy came in through the portrait next, surprised to see a Slytherin. He seemed willing to offer Harry Potter a pass, even if it made him look a bit squirrely at the rule-bending.

“Come on, Perce, it’s Christmas,” Ron edged, and Percy washed his hands of the mess and went up to bed.

“I hadn’t even noticed it getting dark,” Harry sighed. “I suppose it’s time to get back. Wouldn’t want Filch to find me here, holidays or no.” The boys agreed and he meandered down to a very cold and empty dungeon. Not one Slytherin remained, which was just- it seemed crazy. But every single one had a family or a friend to go to over the holidays.

He sat in the best seat by the fire, book laid in his lap forgotten. He spent hours on end just talking to the Serpent, stories of past Slytherin students both cunning and not. He didn’t feel cold, just content, embracing the sibilant tones of a portrait and the crackle of the fire.

\--

Harry met Ron in the great hall nearly every day to play wizards’ chess and other games, like exploding snap. He nearly snapped his ankle tumbling down the stairs when he was waving goodbye. One moment he was standing at the top of the stairs, one foot down, when the staircase moved and he was left straddling a great chasm. He chose to shift onto the stair itself and wound up at the bottom, hissing. He cursed a few times for good measure. Eventually Ron got down to him and helped him to Madam Pomfrey, who gave him a salve for the bruises and some sort of compress that dropped the swelling in his ankle like a stone.

“Harry, you have to have the worst luck in the entire school,” Ron mused, having set up a chess set on his bedside the next day. Pomfrey had kept him over night without reason, but Harry could guess.

“I don’t think its luck, Ron,” he mused as his knight was overtaken. He wasn’t great at this chess thing, which Malfoy could never know about. “You know what they say, it isn’t paranoia if someone is out to get you.”

“What?” And Harry remembered that he never told any of his friends what Snape had told him before the holidays.

“Oh, yes.” He decided just to get it out. “There’s a chance that a certain dark lord is back and trying to kill me, please keep it a secret.” He thought Ron was about to hyperventilate, but eventually calmed down so Harry could tell him the whole story.

“And Snape told you? Blimey, Harry, that’s… I mean, Snape’s a bit of a greasy git, you know, if anyone were trying to steal whatever it is, he’d be my first guess. You sure you trust him?”

“Not really, but he’s my head of house, you know? He hasn’t done anything to really make me distrust him, even if he was a right ass to me the first few weeks.”

“He’s a right ass to everyone all the time!”

“So is Malfoy, but we put up with him.”

“Point, I guess. Why do we put up with him, again?”

“He’s got his moments. Also, he’s quite good at potions.”

“Right. So, getting this straight… someone, maybe You-Know-Who, is trying to kill you and steal whatever it is under the big three-headed dog. Snape is an ally. Malfoy is still our frenemy. Ok, your friend, my frenemy. That it?”

“Mmm… think so? Also, I haven’t told anyone else.” Ron had a strange mix of flattered and frustrated on his face.

\--

Christmas was coming up fast, and what was once a chore in the Dursleys home became a real fun quest- he sent off in magic catalogs for gifts for all his friends. Even Nott, though Zabini was still in the doghouse. He had so much money it was ridiculous. He could buy them all nice broomsticks and have enough left to live on. Knowing that idea was probably too much, he kept the price low. Chudley Cannons memorabilia for Ron, a book on ancient legends for Hermione, a charmed hand mirror for Draco that would sometimes randomly insult him. Nott got a pair of noise-cancelling earmuffs. In the end Harry caved and ordered a chocolate in the shape of a penis for Zabini, with a note that said ‘Don’t be a dick, Blaise.’ Occasionally Harry liked to exercise his right to be brave and stupid.

He thought about Snape, but didn’t know what he would like. Potion ingredients were right out, and that was pretty much as much as Harry knew of Snape’s personality. Dark, creepy, liked potions. He could get him a new shampoo, but that would send the wrong message. He decided to ask the Serpent.

“You know Professor Snape?” The snake looked at him sideways.

“Of course.”

“I’m looking for a Christmas present for him and I don’t know what to get him. Er, sorry, I guess this is a little out of your job description-“

“Nonsense, little snake. I’m rarely this amused by those who live here. How many students do you think talk to me?” Harry did suppose it was a little silly to talk to a painting. Probably stranger to ask it for gift advice. He shrugged. “Master Snape… well, there are a few trinkets left from the chamber that would be suitable.”

“I mean, I want to give him something from me, not something from you, you know?”

“These are all yours to take as a student of Slytherin, young one. Not many know how to ask for it, nor would they be interested… they aren’t of great magical power, after all. Mere bits.”

It wouldn’t hurt to check, would it? The snake gestured to the side of the fireplace, where a stone end table sat. Students used it for drinks or papers, but now it was empty. It was lucky, as a drawer withdrew from the wall and settled upon it. The stone slot was full of rings, some banded with onyx and jade, some what looked like emerald. Harry gaped at the veritable treasure. “I couldn’t possibly take any of these!”

“Why not?”

“They’re not mine! They look really valuable.”

“Humans… it’s a bit of sparkle, that’s it. Those things have been sitting around for ages.” Harry suspected the Serpent meant literal ages. He picked up a less ornate ring. “They size to the wearer, but that’s it. No magical properties.” Harry supposed that wasn’t too fancy. It was a plain silver band with a serpent etched across it. The snake had eyes of a dark green that echoes the Serpent’s.

“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll love it. I’ll sign it from you, too, is that alright?”

The snake approximated a shrug with its head. “It makes no difference to me, little one. I think I’ll nap some more… these new wizards take it out of you…”

Harry pushed gently at the drawer and it slid back into the wall seamlessly. He looked, but didn’t even think he could have found the right stone again.

\--

Severus Snape didn’t get many gifts, strange as it may sound. Socks, always socks, from Dumbledore. Perhaps a sampler of ingredients from his favorite potion shop for being a frequent customer. The small box wrapped in green and silver on his desk puzzled him. A gift from a student? Perhaps Malfoy, he dismissed, and set it aside for Christmas. Tradition was tradition, after all.

\--

Christmas day came, and Harry woke alone. He had slept in. He emerged into the common room and wished the Serpent a Happy Christmas, who might have grumbled a reply at him and curled back to sleep. An elegant card instructed him to proceed to the Great Hall, where his presents were set. Presents, Harry wondered. That’s like magic. He had been looking forward to it, after all, with a whole set of human friends. He made sure to grab Ron’s gift on the way out the door.

He met Ron in the Great Hall already pigging out over breakfast. It looked strange with all the tables pushed back, a new central tree holding pride of place. It was enormous, and with the enchanted ceiling it seemed to truly brush the clouds. Unfortunately, the tinsel enchantment on this one had been replaced with confetti, and a small drift of the stuff had already accumulated below. This time, Harry gave it a wide berth, but spotted some glitter in Ron’s hair that suggested he had not been so lucky.

“Morning, Ron! Happy Christmas! To you too, Fred, George, Percy.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” They chimed back, Ron with a mouth full of food. He coughed a bit, but smiled at Harry as he took a seat. “Percy said we should wait for you for presents, it’s been terrible.”

“Ron’s been suffering, really.”

“Couldn’t even muster up an appetite,” the twins laughed.

“I can see that. That bacon looks lovely, let’s have a bit,” and they tucked in. Headmaster Dumbledore himself came by and wished them a Happy Christmas, but didn’t linger. It seemed breakfast was an informal thing, and Christmas dinner would be the real celebration.

Minutes later they were all clustered around the tree. Presents were passed to their respective owners and gushed over. Harry was all choked up- he had many more presents than he would have expected. Pansy Parkinson sent him a comb, Nott sent him a handwritten set of instructions for a silencing spell. Great minds think alike. He didn’t get anything from Zabini, not that he expected it. Malfoy sent him a little curling silver snake that projected the time when it opened its mouth, with a vaguely insulting note about tardiness being rude. Hermione sent him a book on non-magical snakes of South America, which made him think about a certain zoo animal. He hoped, wherever it was, it was happy. The twins got him a box of every-flavor beans, and Ron got him a chocolate frog. (It had a Circe card.) Mrs. Weasley actually sent him a sweater in Slytherin green, with a great gold ‘H’ on the front. The Weasleys all put their sweaters on, and so did he, and it felt like a real family. Harry didn’t cry, but he was pretty close. Percy got some Hufflepuff third-year to take their picture so they could send it home to their mum.

They had a break before dinner, which Harry took to head down to the Slytherin dormitory. He had a very special present to give. It had taken a surprising amount of effort to arrange, but he hoped it went well. His research suggested it might. He dashed to his room to retrieve it and back into the common room.

“Hello, Serpent. Happy Christmas, again.”

“Yes, hello. What is it now?”

“I got you a present.” The snake opened its eyes and blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Harry flushed and unwrapped the slim package in his hands. He flipped it around and showed it to the snake. It was a painting of a mouse. The mouse had lots of cheese all around it, and a little hidey hole too small for the Serpent. Its tiny nose wibbled and Harry thought with a wince that it really was very cute. “Do you like it? I thought we might hang it down here, and every once in a while you could have a snack, not that you need to eat. The artist was a little weirded out by the request, but assured me that after the mouse was digested an identical mouse would appear in the frame.”

The snake looked a bit befuddled but instructed Harry where to place it, then how to affix the sticking charm. "Thank you, Mr. Potter,” it said politely.

“You’re very welcome.” Harry watched the mouse for a bit, eating cheese and heading in and out of the mouse hole. He headed back to his room only to find two additional gifts lying on his bed.

The first was what looked like a clothes box, only when he opened it a silvery sleek fabric pooled out. It was a rather ugly cloak, strangely patterned all over. He put it on to see how it looked, as was only polite with a gift, to find out it made him invisible. Harry _loved_ magic. But who could it be from? All of his friends had given him gifts. The card left in the box held no answers, only that it had been his father’s. Strange.

His attention turned to the other gift, not nearly wrapped so delicately, and with a great number of clumsy holes poked in the top. Oh no, Harry thought, Hagrid. He hadn’t sent Hagrid anything. Somehow Hagrid knew and would have sent him some horrible devouring creature. He might not have spent much time with the man, but he heard the stories. Mustering up his courage he gingerly pulled back the brown paper. The enclosed letter read,

“Happy Christmas, Harry! I saw this little guy still at the store and the owner said he might have to go to a bad home soon, so I figured he’d be happier with you, since you showed such interest in him. I said he’d go to you and she let him go with a smile! She said to feed him about once every two weeks, I’ll keep some mice for him in my house. Otherwise, you’re all set, he feeds on your magical signature. This cage should keep him for a bit, unless he gets much bigger.”

The paper peeled back to, in fact, show the snake from the store. It looked worse, some scales greying. It barely lifted its head to look at Harry, though its eyes brightened by seeing him.

“ _Little master_ ,” the snake acknowledged.

“Hello again.” Harry wracked his brain for the name of the snake, but couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry, I can’t recall your name.”

“ _It’s_ …” the snake once again made that pattern of hisses.

When Harry mimicked it, the name sounded a little like Seshhe. “How do you feel?”

“ _Hungry_ …” Seshhe replied. Harry took the snake out and it curled up his arm a bit. It relaxed and seemed to pulse. Harry was a bit scared that it would get bigger, but it settled back to original size. Its scales brightened to a nearly iridescent dark grey. “ _Much better_ ,” his tongue flicked, tasting the air.

“Good, that was only mildly terrifying,” he told the snake. “I’d like to not keep you in a cage, but, uh, you have to promise not to scare anyone.”

“ _I am a snake, I scare people. I can try not to be seen_.” He was a bit doubtful.

“Right, and that’s just a bit bigger of a cage. Well, with winter holidays, there’s nobody else around, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll try and think of a better solution before everyone gets back. I can always ask Malfoy. I think you would scare Ron, though.”

“ _These are your friends?”_

“Yeah, those and a Muggleborn named Hermione. Though Nott and Zabini live in this room, too. Don’t hurt them if they pop by and scare you.”

“ _Muggleborn_?” Harry didn’t really want to explain politics or racism to a snake, but…

“That means she was born to non-magic parents,” he began.

“ _Not-pure-blood_ ,” of course they taught a snake this, Harry thought with disgust. “ _You humans have such strange distinctions._ ”

“Not all of us, Seshhe. Some of us don’t care about it at all. Now, for a change of subject, let’s talk about the human idea of privacy, which I find important…”

\--

Severus Snape was a bit befuddled by the small gift once again set on his desk. It wasn’t from any of the students he thought it could have been- they had sent him their own Christmas notes. He had performed every curse-sensing spell he knew of, just in case. He pulled at the tail of the ribbon and it came undone. He carefully opened the box, Shield charm ready. Inside was a ring and a small note, folded twice. He unfolded the note first.

“Professor Snape,” it began, “I’d like to wish you a Happy Christmas. A friend helped me find this for you, and I hope it isn’t too strange to receive a gift from a student. Best of luck on your hunt, Harry Potter & Sytherin’s Serpent.”

Harry Potter, Snape mused. A strange boy, especially to such parents. Slytherin’s Serpent was more of a riddle, but he put it down to sentiment. He lifted the ring from the box and held it to the light. Silver, a snake, green eyes, it made his stomach jolt a bit. It may be the symbol of his house, but it brought back some dark memories. Not that Potter could have known it. Wary of tricks, Snape quickly diagnosed the ring, empty save for a standard sizing charm. He slipped it onto his index finger, and a corner of his office opened.

Snape blinked at the change, slipping the ring off. It closed up, bricks whirling into place. On, it opened. Wand out, he moved to investigate the alcove. It was clearly dusty and ill-used. It looked as if a nest of pixies might have come and gone. A tiny, rock-edged pool of brackish water sat in the middle, with a bookshelf on either side. With a glance, Snape saw that the books were held under a stasis charm to keep them from decay. He glimpsed such titles as ‘ _Potions, Year Three,’ ‘Legitimately Applicable Curses,’_ and _‘Blackmail.’_ He’d get back to that. Light filtered in from tiny windows placed along the line of the ceiling, and the far wall held a chest. Casting for dark magic and hexes as he went, Snape reached for it and paused. He should tell Dumbledore, should have told him before he stepped foot in the room. He looked down at the ring on his finger. He sensed no dark magic. He opened the chest. Inside was an antique set of potion-making tools, far out of date. It also held a scroll. He removed the scroll carefully, preserving its stasis charm and strengthening it as he went. He was no historian, but it seemed very old.

The scroll read, “To my successor, Head of Slytherin House. Upon my death my teaching supplies shall be delivered to the corner of my office, including but not limited to: Cauldron, weights and measures, vials and notes. Use them well, and don’t let any snot-nosed brats get their grubby hands on them.

Recorded in the will of Phineas Nigellus Black, died 1925, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Member of the Noble House of Black.

Severus leaned heavily against the ring of rocks behind him. Phineas Nigellus Black, who had a portrait hung in Dumbledore’s office. He should definitely have told Dumbledore first. As he was thinking this a second note slipped from the end of the scroll and onto the floor.

“To the successor of Phineas Nigellus: I cannot say I am glad you found this, but I’m probably long dead and it matters no longer. You have shown yourself a friend to Slytherin house and possessed of his gift. I can only hope you don’t hold the same vitriol toward mixed-magic students that my father did. Slytherin’s Serpent seems to have left such beliefs behind, and so I have hope left. Use what he has created to raise students that have open minds, and open hearts.

Cordially, Phineas Black.”

Phineas Black the second, Snape corrected. Nigellus left this here, and his son hid it well somehow. And mentioned Slytherin’s Serpent, as Harry Potter did. He could confront the boy before he took this to Dumbledore, he supposed. He stepped out of the room and moved to take the ring off, twisting it. The wall closed with the snake pointed toward his palm, and opened face-up. How Slytherin, he thought.

\--

Harry had just put the cloak at the bottom of his trunk when a knock rang out. It must be Snape, given that no other students were here. He quickly ushered Seshhe underneath the bed with a bare hiss of annoyance, then opened the door. “Professor, Happy Christmas. I was just about to head to the feast.”

“Where on earth did you get this, boy?” He gestured to the ring.

“From the Serpent.” Harry blinked. Snape was silent. “You know, in the common room.”

“The painting?” Harry nodded. “Show me.”

Harry led him to the common room and stood before the snake. It woke up to look at them.

“ _Come to say thank you, then? What chivalry,”_ it mocked. “ _Or did you need some more?”_ The drawer opened.

“See?” Harry addressed Snape. “I just asked what to get you, and it had this great idea.” Snape reached for the drawer and it snapped closed. The snake let out an angry hiss.

“I suppose they aren’t mine to take after all,” Snape muttered out loud.

“He said they were any Slytherin’s to have, though,” Harry wondered. Snape had a bad feeling, and then the boy started hissing to the painting and he closed his eyes. It had to be a Potter curse, he whined internally, to make his life hell.

“Potter, listen to me very carefully,” he began. “That is called Parseltongue.”

“Cool,” Harry returned. There seemed to be more.

“Don’t do it in front of anyone.” Harry was confused.

“Why?”

“You stu- It’s somewhat of a lost art, and… let’s go to Dumbledore.” He grabbed at the boy’s arm and tried to pull him along, but he stood fast.

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong! I thought all wizards could talk to snakes!”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you have a huge snake motif going here, I thought maybe you could talk to the other ones too, like… I was just bad at talking to animals or something. Snakes are really nice and there’s nothing bad about talking to them,” he finished.

“Not necessarily, but-“

“Let me guess, it’s just one of those evil things like being in Slytherin.” Snape was too much himself to shrug, but he had the urge.

“Yes. Snakes have been associated with dark wizards for a long time. The Dark Lord in particular was a Parselmouth.”

“Oh.” Harry was stumped. “But I- I don’t have to stop, or anything, right? It’s just, it would cause a little trouble if people knew.” Snape wished the boy would have just let the Headmaster explain. Instead he would have to share this whole conversation over again.

“Can you be sure no-one will hear you, in the common room of so many students? Can you be sure no-one has already?” Harry was silent. “I will not tell you not to. Just know the consequences.”

Harry thought briefly that they might be pretty good. Slytherin house might just accept him a bit more if they thought he was embracing the whole evil mystique. But he understood that Snape was a Real Adult, and understood more about wizarding society than he did. But he would read about it, make no mistake.

Snape nodded and swept off to leave the boy to his thinking. He had a full report to make to an old man.

\--

It had been a very eventful Christmas day, and Harry was tired. But he remembered the cloak, silky and invisible, and suddenly had to know all about his gift. The library might be closed, but what difference did that make to an invisible man?

Harry didn’t count on Filch’s cat’s nose. He was supposed to be a better planner than this, he reminded himself as he ran. She chased him into an abandoned classroom where he shut her out, panting. He kept the cloak on, but turned around. He had thoroughly treed himself, he thought wretchedly. No other exits, just a huge mirror. He approached it. It showed him despite the cloak, so he pulled it off. He whirled around, but nobody was there.

He saw himself from top to toe for the first time in a long time. The changes in him actually surprised him- three full meals a day, until he was full. He’d grown more in the past few months than he can ever remember. His robes fit, his glasses were clear and unbroken. The mirror showed him, but also- also a man to his right, and a woman to his left, and he had her eyes and his hair- these were his parents. Ron and Hermione stood with Malfoy to the far left, laughing together, snakes and lions. His family. But he squinted at the mirror- there was a bit of a glare over his head, a reflection, a ghostly face. He waved his hand over his head. Nothing. His parents smiled at him, but he couldn’t dismiss that strange glint. He wished with all his heart for an unbroken family, but what Harry Potter loved at this moment in time was a puzzle.

\--

Harry waffled on telling Ron about the Parseltongue thing, but he already knew about Voldemort. Ron didn’t even finish breakfast after that, just staring at Harry with his mouth open.

“Ron, you’re so dramatic, so I can talk to snakes, big deal. Mostly they talk about mice and warm nests and stuff.”

“You don’t get it, Harry! You’re like, the savior of the wizarding world. You can’t be a _Slytherin_ , you can’t be a _Parselmouth_ -“

“So you have heard of it! Ok, tell me all the worst stories, get it out of the way.”

“They, you know, set snakes on people.”

“That’s it? Instead of killing people themselves they attack them with snakes and that’s the worst thing ever?”

“It’s scary!” Ron whines loudly and a pair of girls look over. He flushes brighter than his hair. “It’s frightening,” he corrects, “and it’s a dark art.”

“I do it instinctively, I thought dark arts took, like, practice.”

“Maybe not this one! Just don’t do it around me…” Harry’s eyes lit up and he whispered lowly,

“ _Ron Weasley is a great big scaredy-cat,”_ and Ron wiggled to his feet.

“Don’t do that! Merlin! That’s mean, Harry!” The girls were laughing at him now.

“Fine, sit down, you great flobberworm. I won’t.”

Ron grumbled but did sit back down. “You-Know-Who did it. I think that’s a good enough reason not to.”

Harry shrugged. “You may have grown up with him as your boogeyman, but I didn’t. I didn’t grow up thinking I was the savior of anything, either. I’m just Harry.” He didn’t tell Ron about the mirror. That was his puzzle to solve, and he would solve it before classes started back up.

\--

Despite spending most of his time there, which Ron whined about, he was no closer to finding out what was in the mirror. He polished it and stared at his parents’ faces for hours, committing them to memory, but the haze remained. It moved with him across the mirror. Harry wondered if it could be part of the enchantment. He couldn’t find anything about it in the library, not for lack of trying. _Magical Mirrors_ was no help at all, ending up as some sort of advertisement for a mirror that made you look skinny or called you fabulous. _Reflections Through Time_ was actually a history book. He was in it, so he slammed it closed, which made Madam Pince look at him with narrowed eyes. He asked politely for books on magic mirrors, which did result in a stack of useful books with no mention of any haze beyond a malfunction. He was stumped.

The next night, only two left before holidays ended, Dumbledore sat in the abandoned room. He stared at Harry in a way that made him feel measured against every mention of his name. Like Hagrid, remembering a rivalry Harry had no part in. “Professor,” Harry began, with the slight inclination that he should at least try to get out of trouble, “I can explain-“

“I see you’re already using that cloak to get into certain trouble,” Dumbledore twinkled at him. “I’m disappointed to see you back yet again, my boy.”

Harry wondered how many times Dumbledore had seen him here, pacing before the mirror, eyes glued.

“Do you know what this mirror does, Harry Potter?” He shook his head. “Not a clue?”

“Well, it shows me… what I want, I suppose.” Harry knew more than that from his research, but he wanted to know what Dumbledore would say.

“Very good, Harry, but not precisely. It shows us the deepest desire in our heart.”

“So I see…” He flashed his eyes to the Professor, who was waiting patiently, and thought about lying, but it wouldn’t do any good. “I see my family, and my friends, all together. Nobody’s fighting.” Dumbledore’s face seemed to lighten by about a hundred pounds, wrinkles fading as he smiled.

“Very good, my boy, what a splendid desire.”

“But the mirror doesn’t show… ghosts?”

“It shows an image of your parents, I’m afraid. An echo.”

“But not a ghost, I mean…” He steps up to the mirror and touches the space above his head. “A mystery. If I wanted a mystery, would it show that?”

“Perhaps. I cannot say precisely what it does and does not do, for the hearts of men are more complicated than the mind.” But he looked disturbed. “Harry, Professor Snape has brought to my attention your remarkable skill.”

“My Parseltongue, you mean.”

“Indeed. I hate to ask it of you, but I’d prefer you refrain from using it in front of others. It might scare them.”

“That’s what Professor Snape said, basically,” Harry looked away. “Why are they so afraid of snakes?”

“A bad man used it as a symbol and corrupted it.”

“And a thing can’t be un-corrupted?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “If you find a way, Harry, be sure to let me know.” He sounded tired, he sounded like an old man. Harry nodded to himself. “Now, off to bed. The mirror will be gone tomorrow, and I must ask you: don’t look for it.”

“Could I look one last time, then?” Dumbledore’s face fell, then nodded. Harry turned to the mirror, and the ghost glinted at him. He reached his hand out to it, and felt soothed. Not all mysteries must be solved immediately, he figured. There would be time. He turned back to Dumbledore, who was watching him. “As I’ve shared, might you, sir? What do you see in the mirror?”

The old man didn’t even look in the mirror’s direction as he answered, “Socks, dear boy. I never have enough socks.”

\--

Ron was disappointed that Harry hadn’t told him about the mirror until it was gone, but he was too wrapped up in his holiday work to linger on the topic. It was only a couple of chapters reading, but he whined about it like it was a ten-foot-long paper.

“As Hermione isn’t here, it’s my job to tell you: it wouldn’t be so difficult if you hadn’t left it to the last minute, Ronald,” he mimicked Hermione’s voice. His feet were up on a stuffed ottoman, Hermione’s gift in his hands. He wished Ron would pipe down so he could actually read, but he just kept groaning at odd intervals.

“Is that what you think I sound like?” A surprised voice interrupted. “You sound like my mother!” Harry leapt up with a grin and hugged her.

“Thank goodness, Hermione, I’ve missed you terribly, Ron hasn’t stopped groaning since you left, look at him, he’s interrupting me every five seconds, if I’m alone with him for ten minutes more I’ll cause serious damage to my ears.”

“You call me dramatic,” a nasally voice adds.

“Malfoy, hey.”

“She gets a hug and a speech and I get, ‘Hey!’”

“Fine, get over here, Malfoy, I’ll give you a hug,”

“No, I don’t want one,” he backed away.

“Fine, live without it, an emotional wreck.” Malfoy made an overdramatic face and stomped over to give Harry a hug.

“Don’t get any ideas, Weasley, I’m not hugging you.”

“Thank goodness. Hey, can you summarize the potions chapters we were supposed to read?”

“Not now, Ron. We have a lot to tell them, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember, what- oh, yeah. I guess.”

\--

Malfoy was just on the verge of having all his frustration at Harry out in the open when his yells turned to screeches and he hopped up onto his bed. He looked like a fine lady who’d seen a bug on the floor.

“Oh! Don’t worry, that’s just Seshhe. He won’t hurt you.”

“What- is this _your_ snake?”

“Well, I suppose he was gifted to me, though the ethics of pet ownership…”

“THIS IS YOUR SNAKE, POTTER?” Seshhe was slithering up the side of the bed, now.

“Yes, yes, he’s just having a bit of fun at your expense. Come here, Seshhe.” He was careful not to speak in Parseltongue, but the snake responded to his name.

“What kind of name is that?”

Harry dodged the question by shrugging and saying, “Hagrid gave him to me.” Malfoy came to the erroneous conclusion that Hagrid had also named him.

“That means it’s probably poisonous and deadly and ready to kill at any moment.” Harry picked up the snake and wound him around his shoulders.

“Are you ready to kill at any moment, Seshhe? Are you? Are you?” Seshhe didn’t understand but he loved the attention, beginning that slow pulse that meant he was feeding.

“I can’t believe you’re baby-talking to a snake, good lord, Potter, you’re the craziest bastard I’ve ever met. What is that thing doing?”

“He’s not just a thing, Malfoy, honestly. He’s very special. The lady at the store said he was specifically bred for a curse-breaker, for help with wards, whatever that means. She also threw around the idea of a Runespoor mix. How would you even get- you know what, nevermind. I’m glad he has one head.”

“Wow,” Malfoy creeped closer, enticed by the idea of something rare and probably valuable. “I’ve heard of magical snakes, but none like this, specifically bred for pets. He’s a bit… dull, though, isn’t he?”

“There was also a purple one at the store, if that’s your speed,” Harry replied sarcastically. “Hey, it’s actually about time to feed him. Want to come?” Malfoy really did not want to go to Hagrid’s, but Harry dragged him along anyway. Classes started tomorrow, after all, and Malfoy needed to be empty of complaints to make space for the new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this ended up 90% Christmas


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was on a rant, as she did sometimes, about how wizardkind classified historical events. “It’s just ridiculous, sorry Harry, that Harry living takes up like three chapters, when Nicholas Flamel’s _literal immortality_ is barely mentioned!” She took a bite of green beans.

Harry perked up at ‘literal immortality.’ “Wait, wizards can actually do that?”

“Well, he can be killed, I imagine. Not surprising, they don’t go into much detail. But he doesn’t age, which is a big cause of death. He’s over six hundred years old.”

“Wicked,” All three boys whispered. They were a bad influence on Malfoy.

“He made a complicated alchemical reaction, nobody quite knows how other than himself, into what’s called the Sorcerer’s Stone. It can turn metal into pure gold and create the Elixir of Life.”

Harry began to get a bad feeling. “Say, Hermione, would this stone be about…” he cupped his hand, “yea big, heavily guarded, and very interesting to someone who may or may not be seriously dead?”

She dropped her book into her mashed potatoes, which meant she was practically fainting. Malfoy rescued it, mostly. “What does it change to know what the Dark Lord’s after? We knew he was searching for it, we knew it was here.”

“Would you stop calling him that,” Ron hissed.

“What does it matter what I call him, you dirt poor carrot-top,” Malfoy sneered. “He’s dead and he should stay dead.” He was scared, Harry saw. From what Malfoy had told him, his family had just as much to lose as the rest of them. “With all the teachers on guard duty, what could four first-years do?”

\--

A couple of weeks had passed since Harry had fed Seshhe, so he let the snake slither between his robes and his undershirt to smuggle him down to Hagrid’s hut. Being free-range suited the snake just fine, and apart from terrorizing Malfoy he did well at staying out of sight. His stone-like coloring helped him blend into the walls and floors of the dungeon. Harry still hadn’t introduced him to Ron and Hermione. He also hadn’t told Hermione or Malfoy that he could speak to snakes. He sighed. That would be a riot.

As he approached Hagrid’s hut, it seemed to be… smoking? More than usual. It was also making a lot of noise. Edging Seshhe up along his arm to his shoulder, he secured the snake in place before he started running. “Hagrid?” He pounded on the door. “Hagrid, are you OK?”

“Jus’ a minute, Harry, WOAH! DOWN! Jus’ a minute… absolutely fine, not to worry!” Hagrid opened the door, slightly singed. He had a dragon in there, the size of a respectable table and already too big for the house. Hagrid closed the door behind him as if closing in the dragon would make it less likely that Harry saw it.

“Hagrid. That’s a dragon.”

“Er, yeah...”

“And you’re keeping it in your house, where it can’t even see the sun.”

“Harry, I-“

“Hagrid. I’m a bit disappointed in you.” The giant man seemed to wilt, and then to Harry’s horror he starts crying.

“It’s just so- I can’t even do me job, you see, Norbert get sad when Mummy goes-“ Harry pinches at his nose and reminds himself he’s just eleven.

“I’ll help, I can, but Hagrid you’ve got to see Norbert would be happier with his own kind, in the sun, somewhere he’s safe, right? Not somewhere he’s illegal and bound to hurt someone. By accident! Of course, by accident, I’m sure baby Norbert wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Hagrid was just blubbering by now, so Harry patted him on the arm, snagged a mouse for Seshhe, and went to ask Malfoy what to do. If two Slytherins couldn’t think up a plan, who could?

Strike that. If two Slytherins and two Gryffindors couldn’t, then he’d give up.

\--

“ _A daring plan, little master. I’d like to go,”_ Seshhe added. Harry couldn’t think up a reason to say no. “ _I’ve never met a dragon before…”_

\--

Ron loved how scared Malfoy was of the dragon. Though Harry had to tell them about his invisibility cloak to get them up into the tower, they didn’t make a big deal out of it in the rush. Ron’s brother’s friends (and wasn’t that a surprise, another Weasley boy) waited for them there, and they made the switch easily. Malfoy actively looked more relaxed, up until they all got caught by Filch. On the way to Snape’s office to undoubtedly get detention, Harry pretended to trip and used the motion to slide Seshhe to the floor. He used the slide of his robes across the ground to disguise his voice.

“ _Get the cloak and get back home,”_ he instructed. He went on to face an irate Snape, in pajamas, which was terrifying. He knew that somehow the snake would accomplish his task.

\--

It seemed McGonagall agreed with Snape, for once, leaving each house down one hundred points. _Hufflepuff_ was ahead of both their houses. It felt like the worst kind of betrayal, and to say they weren’t popular was an understatement. The four of them, led by a still-teary Hagrid, set off into the Forbidden Forest. Malfoy kept on whining, over and over the same thing.

“I can’t believe they have first-years doing this, my father will hear about it, I’m scared, waaa, waaa…” Harry might have tuned it out. He seriously regretted getting Malfoy as his partner when they split up. He, Harry, and Hagrid’s dog Fang had just spotted the unicorn when Harry got a terrible feeling.

Not just from the sight of the unicorn, horrifying as it was. His forehead burned, and he barely noticed Malfoy tugging at his arm. “Harry, we have to go, we have to, now, now…” He fell silent. A cloaked figure rose from the unicorn’s side, dripping silver. Harry couldn’t focus his eyes, his scar hurt so badly, like his very brain was swallowed up. He could hear Malfoy breathing next to him, a high, scared sound. The figure took a surprised step toward them, raised its hand- then spun and disappeared as the sound of cantering hooves split the quiet.

Hagrid, Hermione and Ron thundered in right after Firenze, then they were all heading back to the castle. Harry was lost in the haze of understanding that what they saw, the figure desperately clinging to life, was in all likelihood Voldemort. And he began to understand why everyone was so afraid.

\--

“He can’t be in the school, Harry! Dumbledore would never allow it.”

“Nobody is omniscient, Hermione, not even him. Somehow, Voldemort is here.” Malfoy and Ron had given up discouraging him from saying the name, but still winced every time. “He’s so much closer than we thought… but if Snape knows, Professor Dumbledore knows, right?”

“Right…” She replied. “In which case, we can re-focus on what really matters: exams! End of year exams! The culmination of all we’ve learned.”

\--

The whole school seemed to hold its breath during finals week itself. Rivalries were set aside as every student put their head down and crammed. His only distraction from Hermione’s incessant study plan was the incessant nightmares. The only thing that helped was getting out of bed and going to speak to the Serpent, which would end up taking most of the night. The snake knew, with all the knowledge of hundreds of years, when to listen and when to calm him. And while Harry couldn’t bring himself to talk about Voldemort or the frightening green flashes of his nightmares directly, just speaking in Parseltongue brought him a measure of peace. Seshhe wanted to help, but he was young. He didn’t have the patience for human troubles.

The night before the Potions exam, head spinning with ingredients and their uses and how best to prepare them, he wandered down to the common room to find it already occupied. Snape’s distinctive nose was silhouetted in the light of a stoked fire.

“Mr. Potter. Having trouble sleeping, are we?” Harry hesitated, then crossed to a mirroring armchair.

“Afraid so, Professor. And you?” Snape blinked, near surprised.

“Just solving a few mysteries.” Harry waited, but it didn’t seem Snape was going to elaborate. In fact, the Professor seemed a bit stuck on the incongruous mouse portrait. Right now, the mouse was sleeping soundly, tiny whiskers twitching. Harry gazed into the flames, allowing the presence of someone else to whittle down the fear from his last dream. He was nearly there, eyes drifting closed, when Snape spoke again. “What troubles you?” He looked uncomfortable, but he was determined to ask all the same.

“Nightmares, sir.” Snape inclined his head. “Tonight, it … I- I’m running through a dark hallway, and someone is chasing me. I turn to confront them, and I’m so angry. I almost think something terrible will happen, but then I’m back here, in Hogwarts. And it seems like everything is fine, except this feeling I’m forgetting something important. Like there’s something I should be doing. And then…”

“Exams, Mr. Potter,” Snape says firmly, “have a strange effect on young minds. You imagine yourself forgetting important details, or, as some students have confessed before, forgetting clothes. Its normal, Potter. Not magical.”

Harry goes back to bed. “And then…” he whispers to himself. “There’s a flash of green…”

\--

Potions was surprisingly harder without Malfoy nagging him through it, but Snape didn’t make any snide comments so he figured it must have turned out alright. His nightmares didn’t slacken, but he tried to remind himself of Professor Snape’s advice. Otherwise, he felt pretty confident in both written and practical exams. It was hard not to know the information with Hermione chanting it whenever he saw her.

Then exams were over, and the sweltering days broke into hours spent on the banks of the Great Lake, Hermione’s panicked studying lapsed into stressed grumbling. Ron made fun of the three of them for lying under a conjured parasol, then had to go to the infirmary for sunburn. All the while, Harry couldn’t get rid of the creeping certainty that Voldemort was getting closer, like he could feel him. Seshhe was beginning to react to his irritation, baring his fangs at the least provocation. Harry tried to calm down, for the sake of Malfoy’s sanity if not his own.

Then finally, one morning he woke early with no pain. It was a strange feeling after a solid week, and Harry felt a deep sense of anticipation. Today, he thought. He stepped out into the common room to see the Serpent not curled up as it usually was, but slithering back and forth across the foot of the painting.

“Harry Potter. Do you know what happens today? Do you feel it?” Harry nodded. He picked up Seshhe and wound him around his waist.

“I need you today, Seshhe. Something tells me it’s going to be a very, very long day.”

“ _I am ready, little master.”_

“Malfoy, get up. Get up.”

“What do you want, Potter?”

“Get up, Malfoy. It’s today.”

“It’s always today, Potter, let me _sleep_.”

“I have a terrible, terrible secret that you only get to know if you wake up and get ready right now.”

Malfoy obeyed, as Harry knew he would, and as he tugged Malfoy out the door toward Gryffindor tower Malfoy nagged, “What is it, I demand my payment.”

“What? Oh, I’m a Parselmouth. _Say hello, Seshhe._ ” Seshhe said hello, poking his triangular head out the collar of Harry’s robes.

“You’re a- damn it, Potter, you are in so much trouble, you are the trouble.”

“Maybe wait until today’s over before you spout that kind of talk, Malfoy.”

“Why, what’s so special about today that’ll change my mind?”

“I didn’t say I would change your mind. Today we might actually meet Voldemort.”

Malfoy replied with a string of curse words that Harry guessed must have a wizarding origin, because he sure as hell didn’t recognize any. Still he followed and that was all Harry needed. They swung by Gryffindor tower to grab the two friends they lacked, then adjourned to an empty classroom.

“Voldemort’s going to try to steal the stone tonight. What do we do?”

“First things first. How do you know?” Harry shrugged. He didn’t say anything. “What do you mean,” she mimicked him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Actually, pressing issue for me, was I the last to know Potter’s a Parselmouth?”

“I knew,” Ron piped up.

“I didn’t,” Hermione frowned. “Can you really talk to snakes? Do they say anything interesting?”

“ _Hey Seshhe, say something interesting.”_ Seshhe poked his head out again to blink at Ron and Hermione. “He says there are mice in Gryffindor tower, that one of the fifth-years feeds them cheese. Also hello.”

“Harry, you’ve got a big bloody snake around you!”

“He’s not that big, just pretty long. He only goes around my stomach twice. His name is Seshhe.” Their pronunciation was bad, but he had priorities. “Voldemort’s coming, and we have to tell someone. Snape, then Dumbledore if we can get him to believe us.”

“Why not McGonagall?”

“Right, we should tell her too. You go ask her, we’ll go to Snape. If they don’t believe us, we’ll meet in the Great Hall for dinner and figure out a new plan.” He wanted to somehow settle the two Gryffindors, who looked like they had no idea how they would break it to McGonagall that they both knew about the Sorcerer’s stone and that Voldemort was here. And they had no proof. He settled for clapping them both on the shoulder awkwardly and headed down to Snape’s office with Malfoy.

He knocked on the door. “Professor?” He asked hesitantly. It opened to glittering eyes. Snape had a slim black book in his hand, and gestured them into the room. Harry rushed into speaking before they even sat down, “This will seem difficult to believe, sir, but I have reason to believe that the events we spoke of last time are happening now.”

Snape’s perpetual frown deepened and he gestured for them to sit. “What reason is this?”

“I believe him, sir,” Malfoy began.

“Mr. Malfoy, this seems like Potter’s scheme. Allow him to answer my question.”

“I just know, sir. And the Serpent agrees with me. Something is happening today, and… my scar hurts all the time, but it doesn’t today.” When he puts it like that, he sounds crazy. Even Malfoy glares at him.

Snape looks ready to throw them out before he looks down and narrows his eyes. “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger have gone to Professor McGonagall, sir.” Snape got up and headed to a pool of water in an alcove Harry hadn’t seen before.

“Minerva McGonagall,” Snape intoned. The water bubbled, and Professor McGonagall’s face appeared in a wavering projection.

“Severus, you wouldn’t believe what nonsense-“

“I don’t believe we can discount this out of hand. Potter and Malfoy came to me with their suspicions as well, and circumstances as they are…” he trailed off.

The projection didn’t show how McGonagall’s face paled, but it did slacken in surprise. “You honestly believe-“

“Slytherin’s Serpent is agitated, as is Potter’s curse mark. My own mark has shown activity, and I suspect a member of the staff. With Dumbledore gone, it would be the opportune time to strike. I am unsure as to which members of the staff we can trust, if one has turned.”

“Surely even you can’t think that, Severus!”

“I do. I believe you should call Albus back.”

She nodded. “Alright. I’ll send the owl. Though I can only hope you’re wrong.”

Snape turned back to the students, who pretended they hadn’t been eavesdropping. It was a futile effort. “Your part in this is done, children. Head back to the dormitory. I expect you to stay safe under the protections of Slytherin house until tomorrow.” Harry was ready to protest, but Malfoy dragged him out.

“Brilliant, good deed done for the day, let’s play Gobstones until this all blows over.”

“We can’t, Malfoy! We’re just going to sit around until Voldemort leaves? He’s been here for ages, if Snape suspects someone on the staff. He’ll have a counter for all the teachers, even Dumbledore! He’s already gotten him out of the way once, and if he’s any kind of Slytherin he’d have a backup plan.  We’re what he hasn’t planned for.”

“He can’t have known that the teachers would believe us-“

“Dark Lord, nearly ruled the wizarding world? You really don’t think he’s passing intelligent?”

“Morgana’s tits. You’re really going to make me do this.” Harry nodded.

“He won’t try until tonight.”

“If I were him, I’d strike in the day, when nobody expects.”

“You mean when everyone’s awake and passing by the third floor corridor?” Malfoy grimaced. “Let’s go meet up with the others.”

Ron and Hermione were all set to panic, having left McGonagall before Snape intervened. Hearing the plan, or lack of one, they didn’t feel much better.

“We’re just going to go down the trapdoor and stop Voldemort, a fully-trained powerful wizard? Not to mention the protections placed by the teachers!” Hermione was part scared, part furious. “This is the best plan Slytherin and Gryffindor can come up with?”

“We’ll snag a Ravenclaw for the roster next year, Hermione, but until then, yes! This is the plan! If Voldemort gets the stone, then he’s back at full power. That means I’ll be the first to die, then Muggleborns, then Dumbledore and all the rest of Hogwarts.”

Hermione squared her shoulders. “All right, then.”

Ron squawked, “All right? That’s it?” She shrugged.

“We’re the backup plan, right? I don’t see much other choice, besides letting Harry die all alone.”

“Oh, so we’ll die with him!” Malfoy groaned.

“Yeah, maybe.”

\--

They had until dark to plan. The only obstacle they could really prepare for was the dog, so they picked up some school brooms. They would fly off to put themselves away an hour after they were checked out. Harry thought of sending Seshhe back to the dorm, but he wanted to stay. Freedom, Harry supposed, involved being able to take the stupid risks you wanted to. Still, the snake was under strict orders to hold on to Harry.

The invisibility cloak wouldn’t hide them all plus the brooms, so their shoes poked out the bottom, but nobody was really around to see anyway. Harry hadn’t wanted to bring it without a plan in case he dropped it, but they didn’t really have a choice. He would have to hold on tight as they flew from the dog. But when they opened the door, they found all three heads asleep and a harp plunking away in the corner.

“Music,” Harry breathed. “Brilliant. Hagrid would have a ferocious beast with a ridiculous weakness, honestly.” Three of them dropped the brooms right inside the door.

“Shut up and let’s go,” Ron hissed.

“Wait, this means-“

“Someone’s already gotten past the dog,” Hermione noted grimly. Harry nodded, and they started toward the trap door with a step that echoed ominously. That would be due to the sudden silence.

Malfoy had started flying for the harp the moment it stopped playing, which just barely saved Ron from the leftmost head. The dog dropped straight to sleep, and they turned to face Malfoy.

“Not a word,” he grumbled.

“No, Malfoy,” Ron laughed with just an edge of hysteria, “You play beautifully, really, saved my life,” and Malfoy lifted one hand off the harp to give him the finger. Harry wondered when he picked up that bad habit, then remembered a lot of study sessions.

“The problem is, you’ll have to keep playing to keep him asleep,” Hermione protested.

“I didn’t quite fancy going down there after all,” Malfoy replied. “Jump on down, Gryffindors, have fun. I’m giving you half an hour, then telling Professor Snape exactly where you disappeared to.”

“Thanks, Malfoy. I’m reminded yet again that you aren’t always a git.” Ron pulled on the trap door, though Harry had to go help him get the edge up. The wood slapped onto stone with a foreboding finality.

“I’m a Slytherin through and through, so Ron, you first.”

“No way! I can’t see anything down there!” Hermione rolled her eyes and jumped before anyone could say another word.

“Shown up by a girl, Ronald-“ Ron pushed him in and followed after. Harry landed on a squishy mat of ropes. He nearly thought that was all it was until it started squirming. Unfortunately, plants weren’t nearly as interesting as magical animals, and Harry didn’t have any idea what Hermione was talking about with the rhyming and the relaxing. Then she seemed to get fed up with them and just set them on fire- no, they fell through the vines unharmed.

“Thanks, Hermione, lost without you, etcetera,” Harry rotated his wrist in a motion he copied from Malfoy.

“You would be! Honestly, pay attention in Herbology. Devil’s Snare was even in the exam revision!” Harry thought he would have remembered a plant named that.

The next room, through a narrow stone corridor, was filled with light and motion. It nearly seemed blinding after the dim dampness of the vines. It was filled with jewel-tone keys. Hermione vehemently declined the broom, and Harry wound up slamming the key against the wall along with most of his body and the broom.

The next barrier was one Harry dreaded even beginning. He marched the perimeter first, trying everything from climbing the pawns to threatening the king, but in the end the door was still sealed. They had to play. As Voldemort wasn’t sitting around here, he had found a way to bypass the test. Ron seemed a bit excited, though. In fact, he performed splendidly, maneuvering them around the board.

When it was over, with Ron lying on the ground, Harry didn’t know what to do. Push forward with Hermione, and hope nothing terrible happened to Ron while he couldn’t run away? He shook his head.

“No, Ron. I got us into this mess, and I need to see it through, but I’d feel a lot better with backup. Now we know he’s come this far, Hermione, you head up with Ron and tell someone. Any teacher, any of them, it doesn’t matter whether Voldemort’s influence has spread. Run screaming it through the halls. Get Malfoy to send for his father, I think Snape has a way.”

“Harry…“ Hermione began, but trailed off. The two of them looked at each other, then she nodded. “I’ll get help. But if there are many more tests, if you don’t know if you can pass them, come back. We’ll find someone who can help. You can’t apparate in Hogwarts, after all, so there’s only one way out of here,” she added grimly. The ‘through us’ was implied.

“You were brilliant, guys. Tell Malfoy for me, too. I’ll be careful.” He turned off, heart in his throat, as Hermione shuffled a groaning Ron to his feet. He didn’t stay to watch them go. He was on his own now. Or, he thought, pressing a hand to Seshhe’s smooth scales, not exactly alone.


	5. Chapter 5

 As Harry passed into the next room, flame sprang up in the doorway behind him, mirrored in the passage to come. A row of vials was set on a table in the center of the room. Snape’s test, Harry thought with a start. Herbology, flying, a transfigured chess set, potions. How did Voldemort get through chess and this one without engaging the trial?

He read out the riddle, and was stuck between three. One was poison, one wine, the other led forward. He looked at them, read through the riddle again, asked Seshhe, and nothing helped. He was debating just taking one when he looked at their size once again. The smallest wouldn’t kill him- no harm in trying. He was further assured by holding the bottle to the light. All bottles but this one were full. Voldemort hadn’t passed this test by, he had solved it. Harry was eerily reminded that the monster of this story was not only powerful and evil, but was once a smart and sneaky Slytherin as well. Downing the rest of the potion, he stepped through the black flames before him into the room beyond. He was relieved to find himself unharmed, but only for a moment.

He recognized the mirror of Erised. He eyed it with a bit of remembered hunger before moving on to the figure in the room. He was expecting the dark, shadowed thing he met in the forest, but before him stood Professor Quirrell. For half a moment, he floundered. Then he recalled the way Snape eyed Quirrell, though Harry just thought it disdain for a bad teacher. He had said he suspected someone… Harry stepped forward. If he had been ready to face the Dark Lord, a stuttering schoolteacher couldn’t intimidate him.

“Mr. Potter,” Quirrell smiled, not the twitchy little thing Harry remembered from the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m quite glad to see you here, attempts on your life aside. I have use for you.”

“You’re the one who kept trying to kill me? Poor job of it, though I suppose accidents are difficult to engineer when I’m surrounded all day.” Harry hid his shaking hands in the sleeves of his robe, only to release them to grip at rope as Quirrell waved his wand, binding Harry tightly.

“Indeed, Severus Snape made it quite difficult to move about as I pleased, but here we are, at last.” Quirrell turned to the mirror, and Harry’s stomach turned just as his scar began to heat. “The stone is hidden by this mirror, somehow. The headmaster’s plan. Intelligent, though flawed…”

“You sent him away tonight, you did something to keep the teachers away-“

“Yes and yes, though both at the behest of my master. He is with me, even now, though I am a pitiful servant…” Quirrell stared hungrily into the mirror. “If only I could be as this mirror portrays me, strong, wise, in favor-“ He seemed to twitch and whine. He waved his wand, and Harry’s bindings pulled him to the mirror before winding away.

“Your master, Voldemort.” Harry stared at Quirrell, deliberately avoiding the mirror’s reflection. Quirrell twitched harder at the name and buckled, shoulders defensive.

“My master, met in the forest, when I was but a foolish boy playing at studying things I had no right to... Silence, Potter! Look into the mirror!”

Harry obeyed reluctantly. For a moment he only saw himself and the ghost above him. But then the ghost was gone. Beside him, a boy appeared. He looked small for his age, just like Harry, with dark hair and an intense look. He didn’t understand- how could his heart’s desire change to some stranger? The boy stared at him, then pulled a shining glassy stone from his pocket. Unsmiling, he stepped behind Harry until he was blocked from view and put the stone in his pocket, instead- and the weight of it appeared there. Harry looked up at Quirrell, who was still staring furiously at the mirror.

Quirrell looked back at him. “What do you see? Tell me where the stone is!” Quirrell seemed to be gearing toward a type of mania, eyes brightening, fingers twitching much as his persona did.

Harry knew that if he let this creature know what he had, he would die. He looked back at the mirror, blank except for him. “I see my family and friends, I always see them, and the ghost.”

“Ghost?” Quirrell frowned, then pushed Harry away to look himself. “I see no ghost!” Harry shrugged, hands in his pockets, wishing he could run for the door. His thumb moved over a face to the famous Sorcerer’s Stone. His other hand reached for the hem of his shirt, where Seshhe’s head met it.

A voice rang out, stopping Harry’s every motion with a breath. “Lies, Quirinus. He aims to distract you…” Harry’s vision flickered, head burning. Voldemort’s voice. How could he be so close? “Let me… speak to him.”

Quirrell didn’t protest, but turned around, his back to Harry and began to unwind his turban. Harry was frozen in place, blinking away darkness at the edge of his sight. A face appeared, an inhuman monstrosity. Voldemort, a rather hysterical Harry thought, the Dark Lord, muffled by a turban.

“Harry Potter… we meet at last. See what I am now, living off of another? Off stubborn will and unicorn’s blood. I need that stone. I’ve been watching you, through the year, you know… cast out, ignored by your own house… misjudged based on years of prejudice against Slytherin. Against us, Harry Potter. Join me, and make them fear to speak your name.”

“You encouraged their prejudices when you seduced the whole of Slytherin to your side. I won’t make their mistakes. I’d rather die than see them justified!” A spell rippled from Quirrell, and Harry’s arms and legs wouldn’t quite obey him.

“Stubborn,” Voldemort replied, with the edge of a dark laugh. “Stubborn and brave, Gryffindor qualities, like your parents. Give me the stone in your pocket, boy, or die like them, too!” Harry shook his head as Quirrell advanced, shuffling to keep burning red eyes fixed on his. He gripped the stone in one hand, edges nearly cutting him. He backed away, but stumbled with his legs bound and landed prone.

Seshhe emerged from beneath his shirt. Harry was briefly distracted, glancing to make sure he was unharmed. “ _Hide!”_ He told the snake. “ _No, take the rock in my pocket and go!”_ Quirrell stopped and Voldemort looked at the boy as Seshhe followed his instructions.

“ _Stop,”_ Voldemort hissed. While Harry looked up at him in horror, the snake didn’t spare him a glance. “ _Stop! I command you!”_ But he continued. Quirrel cast a spell at the snake, then, and though it stopped moving Harry knew it was still alive. “ _Tell me your name! Obey me!”_  Voldemort was getting more and more furious as he went. “Harry Potter, full of surprises,” he spat. His features seemed to be nearly blurring, melting, and Harry’s scar pounded.

“Master, you must-“

“I am calm,” Voldemort replied, and indeed he sounded cut off from the anger of before, but his foul face remained unfocused. “Who are you, Harry Potter? A mystery, indeed…” He trailed off. “One I will solve when I have a body of my own again. Take the stone,” he addressed Quirrell.

When the man turned and stooped to pull at Harry’s pockets, Seshhe turned on himself quick as a whip and sank fangs deep into his hand. Quirrell, screaming, flung his hand into the air and the snake went flying, slapping into the wall with a terrible, wet sound. Harry watched, unable to move, unable to do anything to prevent it. All he could do is cry out as Quirrell cradled his injured hand, wounds seeping a thin blue ichor. “Master!” Quirrell shouted out, voice thin.

“Get the stone!” Voldemort rasped, frustrated. Quirrel stooped quickly, dizzy, reaching for Harry’s pocket again, and gripped his hand to remove it. Both screamed. At first Harry thought it was Seshhe’s venom coursing through Quirrell’s veins. Magical snakes could have terrifying properties. But Quirrell’s hand began to sear and blister, and he knew of no such effects. His own head seemed like to start aflame.

“Master, I can’t-“

“Do it now, imbecile!” And the professor tried again, obedient, only to cry out as he met Harry’s skin. Harry was a quick learner, honed from a year next to three bright students and not in a drafty cupboard. He couldn’t move his arms or legs, but his hand gripped onto Quirrell’s wrist with just a bit of effort. The man screamed over and over again, and Harry felt like doing the same. He had to get closer, but he couldn’t crawl beneath Quirrell’s skin. He couldn’t let go. Below his hand the skin bubbled and burst, seeping disgusting fluid. Quirrell’s other hand reached for his wand, but Harry caught that too, and it hurt, it hurt so much-

He couldn’t hear Quirrell stop yelling over his own, couldn’t feel cold hands pry them apart, nor a furious rattling breeze, couldn’t get Voldemort’s voice out of his head, saying “A mystery, indeed… A mystery…”

\--

Harry woke to the scratching of quill against parchment. He looked over to his right to see the blurry shape of Professor Dumbledore. Harry reached for his glasses.

“Ah, Harry. Good afternoon.”

“Professor. Did everything work out? You know about Quirrell? Are the others ok?”

“All yes. It happens, on occasion, that everything turns out alright. I’m happy to say this is one of those times.”

“But… Voldemort’s still out there.” Harry knew this to be fact.

“He is,” Dumbledore said sadly, “He escaped as he destroyed Quirrell’s body from the inside. And I will do my best to track him. That means you, my boy, must stop worrying about it for now. On that note, your admirers have left you quite a few favors. It seems word travels fast among teenagers. The Weasley twins, who I had the deepest pleasure to get to know a bit better, expressed a desire to send you a toilet seat, so look forward to that.”

“Quirrell… did I kill him?”

“Professor Quirrell did not die at your hand. Voldemort killed him in the moment he left, though he was dead the moment he accepted that blackened fragment into himself. With unicorn blood and hate, he twisted himself into something that could not survive.”

Harry swallowed nervously. “But when I touched him…”

“That’s both difficult to explain and incredibly simple. See, your mother sacrificed herself to save you when you were just a baby. Such sacrifice cannot be undone, and left you with a protection that Voldemort cannot break. Professor Quirrell was burned by your touch because he was twisted up in Voldemort’s evil intent.”

Harry supposed that made as much sense as any magic. He thought of his mother, facing Voldemort alone, fighting for her son. It made a good story, even if he couldn’t muster up a feeling besides numb disbelief at the moment. “Sir, I have a pet, a snake, is he still down there?”

“Your friends are safe, Mr. Potter, all of your friends. Even your smallest one. Madam Pomfrey is a wizard’s healer, I’m afraid, not a healer of creatures, so Hagrid’s taking care of your loyal snake for you.”

“Will you- will he be kicked out, sir?”

“Well…” Dumbledore’s eyes glittered. “It’s a very special creature you have there, to be sure. Slipped past every precaution against adventurous pets we’ve concocted. And, given its special services to the school, not to mention you… I suppose we might make an exception.” Harry let out his held breath.

“Thank you, sir.” Dumbledore inclined his head. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“May I ask how…?”

“Quirrell was in deep distress, and you had just lost consciousness when I arrived to pull you two apart. Much longer, my boy, and it might have killed you. It was quite a stroke of luck that you had given Snape the method of contacting a certain Malfoy, who managed to warn me before I even arrived in London. I made my way straight back here, to find you. I must admit, I find myself flummoxed at thanking that man, who I have been at odds with at nearly every turn of his life. I find that children can work the most unexpected of miracles.” He smiled at Harry.

“Now that business is taken care of, I believe there are three boisterous souls that have somehow been alerted of your wakeful state… All the rest of your questions can wait.” He rose from his chair.

“But sir, one more-“ Professor Dumbledore paused with a hum but did not resume his seat. “Who was the boy in the mirror? When he gave me the stone, it just appeared.”

Dumbledore frowned. “The riddle of the mirror is one of my own making- if the person who looked into it wanted to use the stone, he would see himself using it, not getting it. But I don’t know of what boy you speak.”

“He looked around my age, sir, a bit small, dark hair… Nevermind, this can’t be useful to you.” But Dumbledore looked, of all things, nearly frightened.

“Quite right, Harry, best leave such mysteries for another day, when you haven’t just woken from such a long nap.” Mysteries, Harry shivered, might not be such wonderful things after all.

As Dumbledore left, three bodies tumbled through his absence to Harry’s side. Hermione explained all about what would happen to the stone while Ron made it a point to look through the gifts to the left of the bed.

“So many sweets! What, did they think the main side-effect of facing a dark wizard is low blood sugar? Most of these are from Gryffindor, what happened to house loyalty?” But Ron ate even as he complained, with Harry’s express permission.

Draco was just telling Harry how his father had swooped in and saved the day when the very man swooped in. He looked disheveled though he pulled his hands through his hair, wary of poor first impressions. “Father!” Draco leapt up and hugged him. The elder Malfoy seemed taken aback, though he wrapped his free arm around Draco all the same. “It was brilliant how you found Dumbledore so fast, he said Harry might not be alive without you.” He definitely looked uncomfortable now, stealing a glance at Harry.

“Why don’t you introduce me, Draco.”

“Of course! Harry, my father, Lucius Malfoy, Head of the House of Malfoy. Father, my friend, Harry Potter.” He fairly puffed with pride, and if Harry could have elbowed him in that moment he would have.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, and he couldn’t get out of bed, so he settled for inclining his head and a brief, “Sir.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’d like to thank you for your actions.”

Lucius seemed equally wrong-footed, but slipped back into his usual oily ways. “Of course, Mr. Potter. At your service.” He pulled Draco off for a chat, but they didn’t take long and Draco returned alone.

“Not for nothing, Malfoy, but your dad is a bit… skeevy.”

Draco shrugged. “You thought I was, too, when you met me. I won’t take it personally, though I really should. I don’t go around- er.” He did, absolutely, go around insulting Ron and Hermione’s parents. “I don’t mind a bad first impression, is what I’m saying.”

At this point Madam Pomfrey arrived to shoo them out. Malfoy lingered behind, ducking the witch somehow and doubling back. “Listen, Potter, I don’t expect you to love my father. And I won’t say a word against Dumbledore, Ronald would roll back here to yell at me. But Father warned me, and I should warn you, that he doesn’t always tell the truth. He may be a Light wizard, but he lies when it suits him.” Malfoy looked worried that Harry would snap at him or reject his advice.

“I know, Draco,” Harry smiled. “I’m a Slytherin, after all. I figure he’s pushing me in some direction. You think that he had no idea about a parasitic Dark Lord in his midst? That Snape didn’t warn him about Quirrell? He led me into this confrontation. He watched me find the Mirror of Erised, he looks over our education. Everything we needed to know for those tests, we learned. I’ll run with his game, though, Malfoy. For now, we trust him. No matter what your father thinks.” Malfoy smirked.

“For now?”

“For now.”

Malfoy turned for the door. “You might be a credit to Slytherin one day, Potter. I’ll keep an eye out for it.” Harry rolled onto his side to get some sleep.

\--

Harry slept for a long time, uninterrupted. No dreams, just a long stretch of black. Pomfrey kept all the well-wishers out until the afternoon, when Harry was begging for some entertainment.

Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy filed in to spend some time with his sweets hoard, Hermione with a book. They entertained themselves by daring each other to eat Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. Hermione bowed out after the first rotten egg one, picking up a cauldron cake to wash it down. She proceeded to cheer for each boy in turn until Malfoy surrendered, spitting out a suspicious green bean into a napkin. Harry and Ron only escalated, trying new combos, until Harry couldn’t take any more. Ron decided to take a turn around the infirmary like a conquering general, still chewing a disgusting mix of tutti-frutti and vomit flavors, Malfoy on his arm acting the extremely distressed damsel.

No sooner had he finished his circuit than the next guest arrived, a puffing Hagrid. He was beaming, a covered box under one arm. “’Arry!” He boomed. “See what I’ve brought ye,” he dropped the covered container on the bed just shy of Harry’s feet. He pulled the lid off along with the cover, and out popped Seshhe, slightly worse for wear.

“ _Seshhe! I was worried about you,”_ though the snake language didn’t have a precise word for worried, and he barely escaped having expressed a desire for fuller hunting grounds. “ _Are you healed already?”_ He checked the snake over for visible marks, and found only a little bruising.

“ _Fine, Master, after the first two nights. More mice than I could eat, though I did regret not being close while you healed,”_ the snake nuzzled up under his collarbone. Hagrid was staring, though he coughed and stepped back when Harry met his eyes.

“I’d best be off before Mad’m Pomfrey shoos me out, just thought I’d say hi. Mighty healthy snake, there, Harry. Never seen the like. I’d recommend seeing his seller, in fact… got a few quirks in the breed, maybe.” The half-giant quickly backed out of the medical wing, and the others stared at him.

“Quirks?” Hermione asked. “What does that even mean?”

“ _Been doing anything interesting of late, Seshhe?”_

“ _Oh, getting out of cages and such. Now quiet, you’re warm and I’m taking a nap. His nest is so loud.”_

“Nothing to worry about, I don’t think.”

“Well in that case, think you can go to the feast tonight?” Ron’s mind was, as ever, not far from food.

Harry’s head hurt, but otherwise he felt fine. He told Madam Pomfrey as much and she cleared him with a soft ‘harrumph.’ He managed to walk out of the infirmary in his own robes by the side of his friends. This was a very good thing, as the din when he entered the Great Hall was enough to escalate his headache to a whole new level. The Hall was beautiful in Ravenclaw blue, though he might rather see it in green.

Ron and Hermione wanted to sit at their own table for once, (“For when we win!” exclaimed a strangely optimistic Ron) so he and Malfoy sat at Slytherin alone. Harry vaguely wondered when Crabbe and Goyle had stopped showing up. While he still saw Nott and Zabini all the time in the dorm, only Nott really sat with them. Parkinson skipped in and out, too, but it felt pretty empty in Harry’s area of the table without Ron and Hermione there to take up the space.

Just as he was thinking that, a bunch of Slytherins crowded in, asking all sorts of questions about what happened with Quirrell, did he really meet the Dark Lord, and what did he look like. Nott made such a disgruntled face at all the noise that Harry couldn’t help laughing right in their faces. Then the Headmaster was interrupting with a resounding clap.

“Children, young adults, elder adults! The time has come to say farewell with a wonderful sharing of food. It has been another wondrous, magical year at Hogwarts, not to mention eventful! So, I would like to congratulate the lot of you for the divine effort for the house cup! The points as of now… Here we are… fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and forty-three points! Third place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and fifty-one points. Second place, Slytherin, with three hundred seventy-seven, and Ravenclaw, our first place, with four hundred and thirty points! Brilliant, well done Ravenclaw, our most intent pupils!”

There was a genuine outpouring of congratulations for Ravenclaw, which Dumbledore silenced with an upraised hand and a smile. “However! As I’m sure all of you know, a certain secret event has occurred deep within the walls of the castle. And the students involved, I think, have earned a few last-minute points. First, Miss Hermione Granger, a great friend in times of trouble and, I think, a great tutor. Without her aid her friends might well have been lost before they began. I award forty points to Gryffindor.” This new thing of Dumbledore’s had people a bit confused, but as Gryffindor burst up in applause they all did. Hermione ducked as far down as she could in her seat, but Ron was hauling her up with the help of Fred and George and, surprisingly enough, a proud red-faced Percy. Of course, Harry was nearly standing on his chair to see all the way from Slytherin, clapping as loud as he could, despite Malfoy’s protests to sit down.

“Another Gryffindor of courage in this expedition was Mr. Ronald Weasley-” Dumbledore had to pause for the veritable roar of Weasley pride. “Yes, Ronald Weasley, a master of large-scale chess. Not only did he show skill, he showed a willingness to sacrifice that some never learn. Forty points to Gryffindor.” Ron was buried under a sea of orange hair, before he was lifted on their shoulders. He looked happy enough to be living in the mirror, Harry thought. Whoops of glee rang out as they realized they had overtaken Ravenclaw by just one point, but most also knew what was to come.

“And now, to our other players. Mr. Draco Malfoy.” Malfoy flushed red then pale, and Harry muffled laughter. Slytherin house was watching them, after all. “Courage enough to follow his friends, and wisdom enough to make a plan for rescue. Smart use of connections to help his fellow students has earned Slytherin house forty points.” Admittedly, Slytherins weren’t used to achieving such things in the bright gazes of everyone in the hall, but from their cheers they didn’t mind.

“Finally, Mr. Harry Potter,” Dumbledore began, inciting a deep, buzzing hush over the crowd. “For doing what must be done in the face of fear, forty points.” If the school had been looking for more detail in Harry’s actions they were denied, but there was a pleased rumble of feet from Slytherin house. Nott actually grinned at him, and he thought maybe Parkinson fainted. Emily Roggenbloom, the muggleborn, made a loud noise with her wand that sounded a bit like the noisemakers at football games. She winked at him.

“And well done, Slytherin! Let’s have a bit of a change of hue…” At the change, Harry felt a deep-set sense of belonging and welcome that verged on deja-vu. He was happy here, this was his home. Something in him curled at the idea of returning to the Dursleys, but at least he would know that this magical place existed and accepted him. And he had a snake now, which would drive Aunt Petunia ‘round the bend.

\--

Of course, finals grades came. Hermione, top witch of the entire first year, took the time to scold Ron for forgetting about a quarter of what she taught him for History, but had nothing but smiles for the other two. Her tutoring really had brought them through in good shape, enough for Neville to come shyly ask for an invitation to the study group next year. Malfoy didn’t even curl his face up much. The real surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have been, was the failure of Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy waved it off with a bit of guilt. “It’s not like they’ll be thrown out, they just have to re-take first year,” he muttered. “Though Father did tell me I was supposed to look out for them.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, they’re a right pair of bullies,” Harry replied, packing his bag.

Nott agreed, “Saw them trip a Ravenclaw girl in the Great Hall one time ‘cause she didn’t avert her eyes. Like a dog.” Harry shook his head.

“Better without them, I think,” he told Malfoy, who shrugged.

“They’re old friends of the family. Pureblood ties are hard to break.” Purebloods again, Harry rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you should let them know that they’d catch more flies with honey.” Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini all stopped in the midst of packing to stare at him strangely.

Zabini spoke up, nearly the first time since Christmas. “Why would you want to catch flies?”

Harry blushed red. “Nevermind, muggle thing.”

“Mental thing,” Zabini replied, and Harry laughed. He supposed that was as good an apology as any he was likely to get, though Hermione would hold out.

“Yeah, definitely,” he responded fondly, and Zabini grinned back at him.

\--

Hagrid tried to sidle up to him as he was about to get on the train, though he was a bit large for sidling. “Harry, I, er- well, here you go.” He handed Harry a leather-bound book. “I’ve- I’ve got a lot of time, now Fluffy’s back off to Greece…”

It was huge, and nearly dragged Harry down before he adjusted. He opened it to see pictures. It was an entire photo album of his parents, laughing, happy, even one with a baby Harry cradled in his father’s arms. They looked just as they had in the mirror, without the melancholy that lingered in their faces then. The back held a few pictures of the four friends, one with Harry impersonating Malfoy, then Malfoy impersonating right back with much more skill. The Weasley Christmas photo. One with the four friends studying in the library, Ron’s quill half in his mouth. He wondered who took it. There was plenty of room left in the photo album for more memories.

“Oh, Hagrid, I love it. It’s- it’s great…” Harry started to cry and hid it in a hug. Slytherins simply didn’t cry in front of the whole school. They didn’t hug either, but that was a flexible rule.

“Right glad to give it to you, Harry,” said Hagrid, who had no such compunctions and was sobbing great puddles of tears. “I just wish I was there for you more this year, you know- dragons, and Fluffy, and great big quests, you shouldn’t be mucking about with things like that yet…”

“It’s my choice, Hagrid,” Harry said with a smile, “and I wouldn’t have made another one. You’ve been a great friend. I’ll see you after summer. I can’t wait!” Harry jumped up the train’s stairs to sit with his friends.

\--

King’s Cross was just as he remembered it, though he felt as if he’d changed his old self out for a new one. Looking at himself in the gloss of the train’s side, he noticed he was taller, less bones. He felt stronger. It was a riot seeing Mrs. Weasley hug Ron, then Hermione, then him, then pause before Malfoy and hug him anyway. It was like seeing a badger hug a skink, like one of those childrens’ books about making friends despite radical physical differences inherent in being separate species. Malfoy escaped to his aloof parents’ arms as soon as he could. Now there was a family that looked all the same, nearly like the Weasleys did.

Hermione left with her nervous, normal dentist parents, then it was just Harry and Ron.

Vernon Dursley was late, so Harry sat with the Weasleys until he got there. Ginny was especially taken with him, in a non-speaking staring kind of way that made him uncomfortable. Ron also found it weird. The twins were banned from tricks until they were out of Muggle London, and were expressing their dismay with a series of louder and louder sighs until it was just a yelling contest. Then finally Mr. Dursley shows up to see a collection of very bright-haired strange people yelling and pulled Harry away without a word.

“Goodbye, Ron! Twins! Percy! Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley! Have a good summer,” he shouted back as he dragged his heels, Mrs. Weasley looking distinctly put out.

“Oh, careful,” he warned Vernon in the parking lot. “My snake doesn’t like other people.” The round man turned three different colors when he saw Seshhe’s dark head poke up next to Harry’s and quickly unhanded him.

Harry absolutely _loved_ magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the first year done! Honestly this is more of an intro to the rest, and second year will be more of an AU. Happy reading!


End file.
